#glass cutter au

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ౨ৎ

haitani rindou x reader. 1.3k w.c. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au-ish :3 ﾉ just some rindou lovin' ﾉ repost!

it’s been a while since you've been out with your friends. can you really call them that, though? they are classmates at the very least, ones that feel compelled to invite you to their gatherings. it’s thoughtful, you’ll give them that, but part of you wishes they didn’t. maybe the outing is just boring or maybe they have all grown dull, but either way, it’s easy to zone out in their presence. their chatter seems distant. you don’t even really know what they’re talking about—something regarding everyone’s plans for this saturday.

“what about you?” the girl beside you nudges your ribs to gain your attention—and it works. the jab is surprisingly painful given how small she is. “can you make it?”

“sorry, i already have plans with someone else.”

“aww,” she whines at your answer, “who are you hanging out with? maybe they can tag along.”

“rindou.”

all the idle chatter at the table stops upon the mere utterance of his name. suddenly, all eyes are on you. he’s popular, but not for the right reasons. not many people are fond of him. and you never minded that, but the people who dislike him don’t just dislike him; they’re afraid of him. so although you have no problem associating yourself with him, you’ve learned quickly that bringing him up around others often leads to unsavory reactions. you slipped up at this moment.

“you mean… haitani rindou?”

“mhm.” you’re aware of the common consensus when it comes to rindou and what people think of him, but you want to test the waters and see how your peers perceive him. “why? what’s wrong with him?”

the replies flood in like a tsunami.

“he only hangs out with his brother and you know how much trouble ran is.”

“yeah, they’re total scumbags. i’m pretty sure they’ve almost gotten arrested—and on multiple occasions at that.”

“you’re perfectly capable of surrounding yourself with better company. why on earth would you want to be seen with him?”

“that’s really none of your concern.” the last comment strikes a nerve and causes you to raise your voice. shocked eyes accompanied by gaping mouths stare at you in surprise. you don’t know why you expected their responses to be any different. everyone jumps to the same conclusion and they aren’t an exception. their feelings about him are crystal clear. if they think so poorly of him, they have no place in your life. “and i’d rather not talk to you guys if you’re going to continue to speak about him like that. i’m leaving now.”

and with that, you stand up, collect your things, and start on your way home.

• • •

rindou is in the kitchen when you walk through the door. a head of blonde hair sits at the small table, slurping up ramen noodles. the steam wafting from the bowl leaves the lenses of his gold-framed glasses foggy. your keys clatter when they meet the ceramic of the dish that holds little things like chapstick and mini box cutters. the noise grabs rindou’s attention, his gaze abandoning his food in favor of looking at your figure that approaches to take a seat next to him. he didn’t think he would see you back so soon; it felt like you had just left. but he doesn’t say a word, instead, offering you the noodles hanging from his chopsticks. you lean forward to accept the mouthful of spicy ramen. every other bite of what remains in the bowl is reserved for you.

you stay attached to his hip for the rest of the day; helping him wash the dishes even though it’s your least favorite chore, sitting in his lap and snuggling into his neck as he boots up his computer to play who knows what game with his friends—you even go as far as getting comfortable on the lid of the toilet while he takes his shower for the night. it isn’t unusual for you to take care of his hair once he emerges from the steamy room, combing out the tangled strands of blonde and blue before pulling out the hair dryer. after the locks are fluffy and dry, his hair sits in a neat bun on the top of his head. the only pieces that escape are the ones not quite long enough to be tied up with the rest.

you wonder if your actions came off as overbearing; not that you would care if they did. the conversation from earlier reminded you of how poorly people regarded your boyfriend. someone has to love him when everyone else thinks so little of him, and you’re more than happy to be that person.

and you’re content at the moment, practically lying on top of him, your fingers tracing each curve of the black ink tattooed into his skin. you can feel the thumping of his heart, hear the rhythmic beat of it in your ear.

“what’s wrong?” rindou speaks up out of the blue. so then he had noticed the shift in your behavior.

“what do you mean?” you feign ignorance. you know rindou was fully aware of his reputation, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to shield him from the harshness of others.

“you’re even clingier than usual.”

“i’m not clingy,” you mumble against his chest.

“mm, yeah, you are.” he pinches your cheek that isn’t pressed against him. it doesn’t hurt but you look up at him regardless. lilac eyes peer down at you. the blank expression on his face may not show it, but his gaze is enough to tell you that he’s concerned. “are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

rindou isn’t the type to push you, to make you tell him something you aren’t ready to tell. if you told him you didn’t want to talk about it, you were sure he’d let it go. but since it’s weighing so heavily on your mind, maybe it is best to share. “i brought your name up in front of some classmates and they said some pretty rude stuff about you.”

he snorts as if what you were worried about was silly. and to him, it is. it doesn’t bother him—the wandering eyes, the hushed whispers, the anxious avoidance. everything that you seem to be hyperaware of is the norm for rindou. and he can understand why it upsets you, he wouldn’t want people speaking ill of you, but he’s accustomed to his bad reputation. “i thought i told you not to let stuff like that get to you. you know i don’t give a shit about what people think.”

“well, i do.” maybe you shouldn’t, not to the extent you do, anyway. but after getting to know rindou, the real rindou, you can’t help but feel offended when people reduce him to nothing more than a no-good criminal. sure, he isn’t a saint, but he’s far from evil. what gave them the right to form opinions when they only got a glimpse of one side of him? “they shouldn’t get to judge you if they don’t even know you.”

he lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh, the breath heaving from his chest causing your head to raise. though, not long after, his lips find their way to your hairline, pressing a light kiss to the skin. his hand runs up and down your arm, “it doesn’t matter how often i tell you, huh?”

“nope.” you shamelessly reply. you’ll never stand for people demeaning the man you’ve come to love.

“how stubborn,” he clicks his tongue. it’s clear that this was a matter he won’t be able to change your mind on. of course, he doesn’t care what people think about him, but seeing you so protective of him and his image is oddly endearing. “so what, are you my defender or something?”

“mhm,” you hum, letting your eyes drift shut, “now and always.”

thanks for reading! pls consider reblogging or commenting if u enjoyed :3

[alvojake]

Live For Me | C.SN

「prompt」 : sacrifice 「pairing」 : bf!san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.2k

「synopsis」 : facing peril, you were faced with two options, sacrifice yourself to save the one you love or watch them die before ultimately dying yourself. so you did the only right thing, even if it meant leaving behind those you love the most.

「genre」 : angst, apocalypse!au

「warnings」 : a small amount of kissing, petnames (love...), death, zombies, lmk if I missed anything!!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

The screams and gurgles that you heard from all around you were starting to make your head spin. This was supposed to be a simple supply mission. Get what you need and get out.

So where did it go wrong?

“San, that door isn’t going to hold much longer.” Yunho called out, catching the attention of the younger male who was currently at your side, treating a wound you had just gotten. He looked over at the door and his eyes flew wide as he watched the glass start to crack.

“What are we gonna do?” Wooyoung asked, eyes darting around the small store that your group was huddled in.

You hissed in pain as you grabbed your side, feeling the warm crimson liquid coat the palm of your hand. This wasn’t looking too good for you, not at this rate.

“What about the back?” San asked, looking over at Wooyoung, whose eyes darted to the back of the store.

“It’s empty but fenced off. There’s no way y/n can make it over in her condition.” Wooyoung said, pity filling his gaze as he looked down at you.

You felt guilty that you were holding them back; they could easily make it out and back to the base with no problem. But of course, you just had to end up getting caught by a few of the undead nobodies outside. Inhaling shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet with the help of San, who refused to leave your side. 

“You guys need to go.” Your voice was hoarse, but your words made all three of them look at you as if you had just grown three heads.

San was the first to speak up, gently grabbing your arm and making you face him, “No. Absolutely not. We are not leaving you.”

“San–”

“He’s right, y/n. We can’t just leave you here. We’re a family, which means we look after one another.” Wooyoung cut you off, causing you to smile sadly.

“I’ll only slow you down, and–” Your words caught in your throat as you realized what you were just about to say. A red-hot burning sensation on your side made you acutely aware of your situation and that you didn’t have that much time left.

“There’s gotta be something we can do.” Yunho started to pace the length of the aisle, “maybe the fence has a weak point, or do you think they have bolt cutters?”

“Maybe in the back. The front here is completely ransacked; we'll be lucky to find anything out here.” Wooyoung threw out, motioning to the space around you.

“Guys.”

“What if one of us just carries her on our back?” San asked, looking over at Yunho not paying you any mind at the given moment.

Your eyes wandered over to the doors, seeing that the zombies were going to break that glass at any given moment, and by then, it would be too late. Clutching your side, you tugged at San’s shirt, trying to get his attention, but it was futile. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing pain in your side, you yanked on San’s arm, finally getting his attention. Tears from pain had started to fall from your eyes, instantly worrying San even more.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” He tried to reassure you, but you just shook your head.

“You guys have to go without me.” You pushed the topic and stopped San before he could protest. "Even if you take me with you, I’m only a liability to you, so please just go. I can slow this horde down so they can’t follow you.”

San looked down at you in confusion, and you could only smile sadly. Yunho, however, caught on pretty quick, recalling your earlier encounter with the undead.

“You were bit, weren’t you?” His tone was grim as his hands fell to his sides.

His words caused both San and Wooyoung to freeze, their eyes glued to you, and all you could do was smile. Grabbing a hold of San’s face, you pulled him down. His lips met yours, his hands clutching onto the fabric of your sweater as he returned the kiss. After a few moments, you pulled away, staring into his eyes, watching the confusion, hurt, and guilt swirl in them.

“I love you so much, Choi San; please don’t ever forget that," you whispered, and he shook his head.

“No. No, they have a cure at the base. We can take you back, and you’ll be fine.” He spoke frantically, refusing to let you go.

Sighing, you shook your head, “I won’t make it in time, Sannie.”

“We have to try.” Wooyoung cut in as he walked over to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Your eyes then shot over to Yunho, who just nodded.

Inhaling deeply, you nodded, “Okay, let me grab my bag. I’ll meet you guys at the door.” You smiled at them before placing one last kiss on San’s lips and moving away.

All three boys watched you skeptically, but they had no reason not to trust your words, so they made their way toward the back. You gathered your bag and started walking towards the door, your hands clutching onto the bag tightly. 

San stood in the doorway, waiting for you. Once he saw you, he smiled softly, “Come on, love, let’s get you home.” 

You nodded with a smile, watching as he stepped out of the door. Before he could turn to reach out to you, the door slammed shut. Panicked, he rushed up, banging on the glass, watching as you backed away from the door with a guilty look on your face.

You knew what needed to be done, and it hurt you to lie to them, but at least this way, you knew they would be safe.

“y/n! Open this door, please!” San begged, but you just shook your head.

“I can’t San. You guys need to go.” You smiled sadly, hand still clutching your bleeding wound.

Looking at Yunho, you could see the shock on his face as he stood next to San, trying to open the door. Wooyoung was frantically bangging on the door with San.

“y/n, please.” San sobbed as he pleaded with you to open the door, and it nearly broke your heart, but you knew that there was nothing that could be done.

“Go.” You motioned behind him, tears spilling from your eyes, “Live for me, okay?”

With that, you turned away, ignoring their calls for you to come back and open the door, but you couldn’t. Walking around the store you found some cleaner that you knew would be flammable and started to pour it all over the floor, making sure every inch of the building was covered. You then found your spot at the end of the aisle that faced the front doors, holding the lighter in your hand.

You closed your eyes, praying that the boys would make it back safely and that you might still be able to watch over San in the afterlife.

Upon hearing the glass shatter, you opened your eyes, watching as the horde of undead flooded into the building. You waited until they were merely inches away from you, then dropped the lit lighter, engulfing the entire building in flames.

Even as your body was torn apart by the vile creatures around you and burnt to a crisp, you could only smile, knowing that this would give the boys a chance to survive. If sacrificing yourself meant that San would get to live and see another day, then you would be more than happy to sacrifice yourself time and time again.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Three

Part One, Part Two

Eddie waits till the end of the day to strike.

It's after four, and almost everyone has left for the day with the exception of the teachers and the janitor --who has already given Eddie the stink eye for remaining after hours for 'no reason'.

But Eddie does have a reason, a pretty decent one too.

He's waiting for King-Steve to get out of detention.

Turns out it didn't take until lunch for the whole school to hear about Harrington and Wheeler. In fact, the way Eddie heard, Steve had been ambushed not two minutes after his conversation with Nancy by Hagan and Hargrove.

Now here was where the story differed depending on who you heard it from.

Tammy Thompson told her lunch table that Steve freaked out when Hargrove started talking shit about Nancy.

Mark Holmes told Jim Cutter that Hagan got punched in the face and Hargrove was simply defending his friend from Steve.

Sarah March told Jeff in their homeroom that Steve wound up with a black eye after gym class that morning and was almost suspended for the week.

Eddie knows there must be a thread of truth linking all of these stories together. And at this point, he'd much rather hear it straight from the source.

Plus with a black eye Harrington would be needing those glasses back.

Eddie snaps the gum in his mouth and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he leans against locker 109, certain that Steve will have to stop by before he leaves.

"Munson?"

Speak of the devil.

Eddie tilts slightly in the direction of the voice and blows out a low whistle at the sight of the shiner on Steve's face.

It's already a deep purple, though it isn't as swollen as Eddie would have thought. It matches the colour of the bags under Steve's good eye and is accentuated by how strangely pale he looks today. Steve's lip is also split down the middle, blood staining his polo collar.

Huh, so it didn't happen in gym.

"Looks like someone had an interesting day," Eddie smiles as he crosses one leg over the other and taps the tip of his chuck on the linoleum, Steve winces at the harsh squeak it makes.

"Look Munson, whatever you want, just get it over with," Steve manages to say through gritted teeth, his hands have clenched into loose fists but the same tremor from the night before has returned in full force.

Eddie pushes himself off of Steve's locker and watches as the other man tenses. Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches behind himself, grabbing the shades from where they are hanging off his back pocket. Steve's gaze follows Eddie's movements and barely halts a flinch as the sunglasses are tossed into his chest.

Steve only seems to catch them with his latent jock ability but still nearly drops them in surprise.

"You left these in my van last night," Eddie shrugs at the way Steve's head tilts slightly, he looks from the glasses in his hand to Eddie and back again with a frown.

"Oh," he breathes out, and the tension drops from Steve's frame like the strings holding him up are all at once severed.

"First a taxi service, now a courier," Eddie smirks, dropping his left hand to his hip, "how ever will you make it up to me Harrington?"

Steve grimaces, rubbing a hand down his face, he winces as it brushes the deepening bruise under his eye, "I'm sure you're about to tell me".

Eddie grins, pretending to consider his options as he lifts a ringed hand to his chin to hold it thoughtfully for a beat while Steve stands before him, looking more and more frustrated with every passing second.

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie says with a sly smile as he steps closer, nearly into Steve's space, and leans in.

"Maybe you'll owe me one," Eddie winks as he says it before dropping his voice into a wheezing Italian affectation, "perhaps one day soon I'll call upon you for a favor--"

"What?" Steve sputters out in a strangled laugh, leaning away from Eddie's sudden proximity.

From this angle Eddie can see the slightest flush creeping down Steve's neck.

"The Godfather? You know?" Eddie raises an eyebrow at the blank expression on Steve's face, "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse?"

Steve's brow pinches in confusion as he shakes his head.

"I mean," Eddie huffs, moving out of Steve's space again, "you'd probably like it, you have plenty of practice rejecting offers don't ya big boy?"

It takes a second for the words to register for both of them.

Steve's eyebrows cut creases across his forehead as they rise into his hair and Eddie immediately wants to fling himself off the gymnasium roof.

Of all the stupid, stupid things--

"Is this about the weed?" Steve asks slowly with a frown wrinkling his nose, it would be cute if Eddie wasn't beside himself with relief.

Focus.

"Yup," Eddie manages to say with a straight face despite the way his heart is racing. He clears his throat and leans backwards to drape himself against the lockers again, miscalculating how far he's moved away from them after Steve showed up.

Eddie loses his footing and slams into the metal with a loud bang, sliding down onto the floor in a leather clad heap.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hears from above him, opening his eyes to find a pair of wide hazel ones staring into his own.

"Did you hit your head?"

Eddie ignores the question and the heat that rises in his face and ears. He wants nothing more at this moment than to tell Steve to fuck off, to leave him to crawl into a hole now and finally live the rest of his days as a Hobbit.

But King-Steve is persistent.

"Come on Munson, we should go before someone comes to see what happened, I'm not getting another detention for you," Steve huffs as he holds a hand out in front of Eddie.

Eddie looks from the outstretched hand in front of him, to Steve's face. His stupid, earnest, beautiful face, and takes his hand, grunting as he rises back to his feet.

A door opens down the hall, near the admin office and both men freeze as a pair of heels begin to click and clack their way down the hall.

"Shit," Eddie hisses at the same time Steve barks out a frantic, "Go, go, go!"

They scramble to get away from the lockers and make a beeline for the side exit, a mixture of laughter and curses echoing after them.

Eddie doesn't stop running until he reaches the driver's side door of his van.

He pants out a wild laugh and shakes his head as Steve bends at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. When Steve rights himself, there's a flush of exertion and a bright smile that is only slightly marred by the black eye and split lip.

"You're a trip Harrington," Eddie breathes out before clutching his throat, "I think I swallowed my gum back there".

Steve laughs loud and bright and Eddie can't help but watch the way his head tips back, exposing the long column of his neck. He looks up again, his eyes seem to search Eddie's face briefly before he shakes his head with an expression Eddie's never seen before.

"Yeah well," Steve huffs, his good eye crinkles at the corner from his smile, "you're not what I thought you'd be like either Munson".

And Eddie just doesn't know what to do with that.

Instead, he clears his throat and kicks at a piece of gravel that careens across the empty student parking lot.

"Where's your noble steed?" Eddie asks, his head on swivel. Harrington's car was fairly iconic around here, no way it would have been missed among the sea of beat up Ford's and Gremlins.

Steve tilts his head and frowns slightly, "I left it at Tina's remember?"

And yeah, shit, that makes sense, he must have caught the bus that morning and completely missed it with detention.

"...do you need a ride?"

"Okay".

Part four up!

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

rich girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as bullying, manipulation, cheating, noncon/dubcon, Lloyd being Lloyd, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your long awaited ascension to the Home Owners Association proves more than you bargained for. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, side of Cole Turner

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

Marge plays with the perfect slip of her bleach blond hair. Her lips glisten a shade of pink that reminds you of watermelon and her long lashes perfectly frame her crystal blue eyes. She is the perfect suburban housewife, the leader of the pack. 

The other women look to her as a beacon; they dress like her, speak like her, even try to walk like her. As you look around the tables, the cookie cutter women are almost interchangeable. You don't quite fit the mould but you've contorted yourself as best you can. 

It's your first meeting as part of the Home Owners Association. In your three long years in the suburb, it's been your ultimate goal. Well, it was Cole's. Your husband says you need to keep busy and what better opportunity to make friends. Maybe a great opportunity but not an easy one. 

Your husband just wants the best for you. You know that. Otherwise you wouldn't be living in this gorgeous suburb and your dream house. How could you want anything more? 

Now, you can't. You've done it. You've achieved it all. An HOA member among the privileged and the pretty.  

Caroline clears her throat and you look up. She stares at your french tips tapping on the table. You give a sheepish smile and stop yourself. You can't help it, you're nervous. 

As exciting as it all it, you almost want it to just be over. You want to run home and tell Cole all about it. About how you're one of them.  

You fan yourself with your hand, the sun beating down on the green lawn set with at least half a dozen tables. You're sweating through your foundation and the highlighter and the layers you felt were redundant. Your mascara is starting to stick. You glance over at Mitzy, there is even a trickle of sweat along her dark hairline. How? 

You cross your leg over the other and focus on Marge as she calls attention to the front table. There, her closest allies break bread; Callie who you often mistake for Marge, Olivia and her strawberry blond locks, Eleanor, and older member who kept her hair highlighted and draws her brows on, and Shanice, the youngest of any member, even yourself. 

"Alright, ladies, let's get to business," Marge calls out. You reach for your glass and find the mimosa drained. Right, you drank it all. You set it back and press together your wet fingertips. "Today, we have a new member!" 

Applause rolls through the crowd and you sit up straight, unhooking your leg as you look around meekly. You smile, cheeks tight and your lips tremble. You're so happy but so terrified. 

"And we know how we welcome new members. Honey, please come down," Marge says. 

You take a breath and stand. You gulp and tense your calves as you make a slow progress across the yard, fighting to keep your heels from sinking into the grass. As you reach the front table, your fearless leader welcomes you with a outstretched arm. 

"Our new members get to take on their very own HOA mission," Marge explains as Callie stands, a clipboard in her hands. She comes around beside her longlost twin, "so, Calliope, what do we have?" 

Marge leans over and the two review the clipboard. They hem and haw, muttering. 

"No, Mary is handling that already," Callie says, "these are the new ones." 

They confer then peek back at their table mates, "ladies, please, 14.1b. Do we agree?" 

The women look down at the pink folders and open them, fingertips brushing over paper to find the point in question. The look at each other but something in their expressions is uneasy. Marge clears her throat. 

"Well?" 

"Mm," Eleanor taps her nail on the folder, "yes, I think it will do." 

The others nod, though Shanice does so hesitantly.  

"Marvelous," Marge declares and flips the pages of the clipboard, wiggling free a pristine white envelope with the stamp of the HOA on the sealed flap. She holds it up, presenting it to the audience. 

"By our next meeting, you will report back," Marge declares, "deliver this to the house on the label. Callie," she pushes the clipboard away, "give her the briefing of the issue before she goes. Now we will check in on action items." Marge struts away as Callie pulls loose a sheet of paper and hands it over, "good luck." 

You take it and fold it around the envelope as Marge calls up Erin to present her progress in getting Suzette on Oakfront to remove her Venus statue. You return to your own table, near the back, and sit. Caroline sighs and you glance over at her. 

"What house?" She whispers. 

You let the paper unfold and show her the envelope label. She sniffs and squeezes your elbow, "oh, honey." 

You frown and look down. You stare at the address, you're not sure you're familiar with it. 17 Willow Drive. That's not too far from Elmwood where you live. Should be easy enough. 

💄

You review the directive on the slip of paper. Instead of going straight home, you head a few streets past your house to 17 Willow. You stand across the road in front of 16 and chew your lip. ‘Warning to be delivered to front door. Have occupant sign to acknowledge receipt.’ 

You sigh. You don’t like being the bearer of bad news. You wonder what exactly the homeowner did wrong. Their lawn is tidy and trimmed, the hedges meet the standards of the HOA guidelines, and nothing else sticks out from the row of suburban mansions.  

You cross the street and flick the envelope with your thumb. You hover just outside the gate in your kitten heels. You feel bad already. 

You reach over the white pickets and unclasp the gate. You stroll up the walk, admiring the landscaping. Huh. Paint colour falls within the standard and no unseemly ornaments. You can’t figure out why you’re here. 

You climb the steps and approach the front door. You tap the doorbell and wait, looking around aimlessly. You clutch the paper and envelope tight as your heart races. Maybe all this isn’t for you. You thought the HOA was more a women’s club; they had a book club and social nights and all that stuff, you didn’t really think about the nitty gritty of it all. 

You lean on your left foot, letting your ankle bend.  

“What do you want, toots?” A voice asks from the speaker of the doorbell cam. 

You smile. You didn’t reapply your lipstick. You bend slightly and wave at the lens. 

“Um, hello,” you give your name before you continue, “I’m part of the HOA. I have um, I have something for you.” 

You hear a click. You wait. You check your apple watch as the time stretches on. You peek behind you again then turn back to the front door. You hit the bell again. 

“Leave it in the slot,” the voice growls, “busy.” 

“Oh, right, erm, I do need you to sign--” 

“Christ fuckin’ sakes.” 

The speaker dies out again and you wince at the profanity. Oh, great, he’s already upset. You bounce on your heels and sway. You don’t do well with anger. 

You hear the lock on the inner door twist and you take a breath. You steel yourself and plaster your smile in place. You see a shadow inside then the screen door opens to a naked man with only a hand towel to cover his most intimate spot. He drapes it just in front of his pelvis but you keep your eyes above board. 

“Sorry, I--” 

“I told you, I’m busy,” he snarls, his mustache bristling on his curled lip. 

You swallow and your smile threatens to break. Maybe you should’ve listened and just come back later. You’re speechless as all your mental preparation flutters away. 

“Sir, I, er, I--” 

“Enjoying the view, sweet cheeks?” He scoffs and sends you a wink, “should I lift the towel or what?” 

“Uh, no, please, don’t,” you put your hands up, the envelope nearly slipping from your grasp. “I...” You blink at him. His grey hair droops crookedly, the top longer than the trimmed sides. “Here, er, I just need you to read this and sign--” 

He snatches the letter with one hand and turns it over to look at the HOA stamp. He rolls his eyes. He brings his other hand up, the towel clamped between two fingers and you block out his lower half with your palm and look up. He rips the envelope in two and drops it. 

“You can tell the bimbos to fuck off,” He kicks the remnants towards you, “now if you’ll excuse me, lube’s drying up.” 

He lets the door fall shut and spins around, giving a view of his ass before he slams the inner door. You gasp and bend to gather up the destroyed letter. You quickly retreat, cheeks burning in horror. 

Now you know why Caroline seemed so concerned. 

[gruvu]

Been dragging my feet on this and so here are with the last piece of 2023 that I did. WITH a small intro into the story.

To summarize this stardew valley au, my farmer Beau ends up with a alien child and very much is living a horror film narrative for a hot second. Regardless it's just found family. Now down below is the first chapter, you don't gotta read it but if you do I hope you enjoy.

Warning: Injury detail of burns and mentions of war. Just a heads up if you're uncomfortable.

A full year and yet the sounds of the cabin kept the man awake in his sagging bed. The deep moaning of the structure reminded him constantly how he should have asked Robin for an estimate on updating the supports. He had been so wrapped up in getting this farm together, he hadn’t bothered much in his living space. And now with another winter coming, he became aware how unprepared he had been the first time. 

With a deep sigh he rolls onto his side, pulling the blankets over his head hoping to dampen the noise around him as the night moves on around him. The ticking of his clock began to finally lull him asleep only for the house to rattle then the rafters shook as something plowed through the top of the roof. A scream erupted from him as the sound of splinters erupted and could feel pieces of shingles falling upon him and the floor. Has the war reached the valley? No no, not possible! Regardless he scrambled out of bed, hurrying to his light and flicking it on as he looked up towards the rafters.

In the light dust was still sprinkling down from a circular cut though the top. As if someone had used a cookie cutter through the middle of his shingled roof. Almost perfectly carve out if only the wood hadn’t splintered. He could feel the cool fall breeze drift into his small farm house, making him hurry to grab his robe on the coat rack only to pause as he peers out the window. A soft pulsing blue light came from outside, coming from one of his recently cleared fields… “This is a horrible idea.” Beau mutters to himself, as he shoves his feet into his rubber boots before grabbing the club he had in the umbrella stand and leaving the safety of his home into the cool night full of strange dangers. 

The leaves rustled as he steps down the creaking wooden stairs, the pulsing blue light allowing him to find the disturbed earth as something had slammed and skidded through his field. His mind is going to the worst places, but if he could see it and run really fast maybe he could warn the town if there was any danger. Surely this wouldn’t be like one of those horror movies where the stupid teenager goes towards the danger right? CRUNCH. He yelps looking down as he hops away from the piece of metal, giving off a spark causing the man to hesitate to move forward. Wait.. Maybe it was just a satellite? For tv! Nothing spooky about that. With denial and curiosity at his back, he moves towards the impact site. Finding himself staring into the steam at… “What the..” He murmurs, squinting through the bright glow, his club lowering as the farmer draws closer. Using his hand to wave away the steam he could see what had landed in his field. It was a cylinder in shape, and slightly bigger than the barrels he used to age his cheese in the shed. The capsule of some kind wasn’t glowing itself but what it held inside. A fizzy, bubbling glowing blue liquid that began to dim down revealing something in it. Beau had to move around to get a better view, sliding a bit in his boots nearly colliding with the strange alien object. Now closer, crouching down to see the capsule better he squints into the odd substance. “Huh.. There’s.. There’s something.. In there.” He murmurs, as he moves his hand to touch the glass, at first yanking back thinking it was horribly hot only for him to find it only warm to the touch. There was something fleshy in there bobbing in the liquid, but at this angle it was hard to tell what it was. It seemed all common sense of fear left him as he tossed the club away to move the capsule upright, one of the two green lights on the “lid” of the capsule turned orange, a garbled static voice spoke out and sudden searing pain came from his hand. Panic took over as the farmer tried to pull his hand away only for it to stay attached to the top of the lid.

“H-HELP! HELP! SOMEONE!” He yells trying to pull away, not paying attention to the fluid inside the capsule in his panic. If he had, he would notice drops of what might have been dye were put into the capsule. A small mechanical arm inside with a metal needle poked the strange fleshy object inside, making it twitch in response. Then the orange light turned blue and the farmer tumbled back with a startled yell.

Laying there in the dirt, he held his hand in pain. Unable to see the wound in this light but it felt like a burn or something… He was definitely going to have to talk to the doctor about this. Sitting up now he looks towards the source of his pain, the capsule’s fluid inside a sickly green and bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink. He didn’t know what to do now, no one would be up. He would need to talk to Gunther because this clearly was no missile or any war related object. It was something else entirely and he was deeply afraid.

Staring at it for hours, even as the sun began to rise up over the mountains around the town of Stardew Valley, the farmer watched the capsule. Only when something rubbed against his back did he snap out of his sentry-like state.

“AHH!” He whips around, only to see his large gray and white cat, letting out a chirp in response to his yell.

“I- oh.. It’s you Yogi.” He relaxes, reaching out to touch her only to hiss. Looking now at his hand it was red and… Yeah he needed to go see Harvey.

Moving up to his feet, finding himself stiff only for his back to crack and then his neck. He needed to take care of the animals and-

His dark eyes drift over to the capsule now lit up in the early sunrise, a soft hum over the bubbling noises reminding him of its presence pretty quickly. 

He needed to get that thing somewhere locked up first. Then he could show Gunther, but with his hand. He would NOT be touching that thing again. Not without some kind of protection. The stiff farmer walked back to his cabin, his cat chirping at his heels along the way, cooling off his hand with some water and then wrapping it up in gauze bandage before getting properly dressed. He was trembling all the while, grabbing his large quilt to simply cover the capsule with it and dragging it into his shed and rolling it into a corner where it stayed glowing faintly. Beau tried to remain calm but all the while it stayed in the back of his mind as he fed his beloved barn animals. Thankfully he had to focus as he tried get milk only to struggle with the one hand, the pain did help keep his mind off things but it only made it clear that he had to also go to the doctor. Nine AM could not come fast enough.

~~~~~ “Beau the doctor will see you now.” “Thanks Maru.” He ducks into the back, wishing he could have grabbed some pickles or a cup of coffee for the doctor. Would soften the lecture that could be on his way. He knocks on the door and enters seeing Harvey check some notes only to glance up and smile at the farmer, sending Beau’s stomach into a fluttering of butterflies. “Good morning Beau. Maru tells me you hurt your hand. Why don’t I take a look.” He pats the table for him to sit on, all the while looking over the somewhat disheveled man. A slight frown of concern flickered for a moment before going to unwrap his hand tenderly. “Mmmgh.” He winces, pulling his hand back slightly. The doctor frowns, pausing his attempt. “Do you need me to stop?” “No no. I just.. It hurts.” “Well what did you do?” Harvey showed no judgment or disappointment as he continued to unwrap the hand. Truly expressing concern and worry for the man that had more than once ended up in his office with devastating wounds from the monsters in the mines. “...I burned it. I think?” Beau shrugs as his hand is exposed showing the bright pink skin, the entire flat of his hand was raw with his palm having a large burn in the shape of a neat square. The doctor looks down at it, his dark brows furrowed, having seen plenty of burns over his time here but it was odd. So clean and the area around the nasty burn was more or less fine. “What do you mean you think?” He raises a brow studying the burn. It wasn’t anything horrible but would need to be cleaned properly and ointment would be applied. “I.. I.. Don’t know what I burned it on. I couldn’t really see anything?” “Were you in the dark? Hit it on the stove top?” “I was in the dark.. Outside. There… There was this..” Beau wasn’t sure what to tell him, then again the doctor had treated him for flying lizards. “A thing. Like a mason jar but barrel size and it crashed and I touched it. And this happened.” “...You touched an unknown object that crashed?” “Yes! And it’s in my shed.” “In your shed...When did this happen exactly?” Harvey walks over to the desk door, poking his head out. “Maru, could you please get a bowl of warm saline and soap? Thank you.” He ducks back in to look at the farmer. Seeing his hair a mess, the trembling from the lack of breakfast and wide eyes. He was in distress and he came to the doctor for help. There would be no way Harvey would turn his back on him. “It.. It was early.. Early in the morning? One maybe two AM?”

“Have you been up since then?”

“Harvey I’ve had a consistent sleep schedule, I am not losing it over missing a couple hours.” 

“You would be surprised with little sleep you would do to someone… Why don’t you take me to see this mason jar during my lunch break.”

“Yeah and I can grab Gunther too or maybe Demetris? Someone has got to know what it is…”

“I am sure we can figure this out, but in the meantime I’ll clean up that hand and wrap it in some fresh gauze. Then you can lay down in one of the beds for a bit. Catch up on some sleep.”

“That…That sounds really nice.” Beau smiles a bit, his shoulders relaxing as a weight comes off his shoulders. Maru knocks and comes in, bringing the bowl and soap. Harvey thanks her and gets to work. 

Cleaning the hand with the utmost care and tenderness, being aware of how sensitive the burns were with even unwrapping. Drying the hand and putting ointment over the palm easing down the burns before dressed with dry clean gauze wraps.

“Reminds me of the first summer. When you had to rub aloe all over me.” Beau smiles trying to break the silence after watching Harvey tend to his hand. The doctor’s cheeks turned a soft pink as a smile appeared under the mustache.

“You were as red as a tomato. I told you to make sure you put plenty of sunscreen on.”

“I know I just got caught up with trying to clear out one part of the section.”

“Well we both know you could barely move the next day. I am just glad I had plenty of aloe for you.”

The two chuckle as the doctor finishes wrapping his hand. “Now I’ll get some painkillers and you can rest a bit.” 

The farmer nods, as the doctor pats his shoulder. The two walk back and Harvey gets him to lay down. All the while the humming in the shed grew louder as the color of the boiling fluid turned slowly from green into a more sickly olive. The form inside twitched and grew.

[lonely-north-star]

jewelry maker mammon x retail worker mc

hi guys this is me being silly and projecting my work experiences onto my mc. She can suffer along with me.

(Note: Human world AU?? I guess?? Craft store silliness)

-But imagine Mammon who hand makes jewelry for fun. How did he start? No one knows. He owed Levi a favor and ended up helping to make friendship bracelets for a fan meetup as freebies

-Once he found out there was more than pony beads he was hooked

-Claims he was experimenting with patterns but each of his brothers have personalized/handmade charm straps (Asmo and Levi have them on their phones, the rest of the brothers have them clipped onto their keys or bags)

-His favorites are crystals/glass beads

-Prefers using seed beads for his work due to more color options

-He can spend over an hour in the strung bead and charm aisle respectively

-People mistake him for a worker because he's often fixing things without realizing. He's just so familiar with that aisle he knows where everything goes

-Gets grouchy and calls people out if they're making a mess while he's in the aisle (What are ya gonna do? Tell the manager on him? Good luck.)

"Ummm no, there's no one with white hair who works at this location. The only two people working right now are my cashier and I-"

"There IS. You need to have a talk with him. He has absolutely no customer service skills. I can't believe you hire people like that-"

"... Was this in the jewelry aisle?"

"YES! He was back there and rudely-"

"Ma'am, that's a customer. He doesn't work here."

-Mostly spends time admiring the beads at first because he doesn't have as much money as he'd like. Until he does a few commissions for friends of Levi, Asmo, and Satan

-They'll either buy the specific beads they want used and allow him to go ham and keep any extra (and tip him well ofc which surprises him)

-Or they send a certain amount and tell him to go ham and surprise them

-Beel once paid him to make matching sports charms for his team

-He tried setting up an online shop but then chickened out at the last second, so now it's just word of mouth

-MC at first was wary of him because he spent so much time there she thought he was stealing

-She would go in there to fix the aisle only to find it sparkling (awkwardly customer services him before walking away)

-Mammon wonders why all the employees keep asking if he needs help finding anything

-Hears him telling off a customer while passing by to do returns and is shocked af

-One day when he's buying beads the cashier asks what he's making and he excitedly explains his idea and shows off his phone charm

-MC was already up there packing an order and gets called over by the cashier

-Compliments him on the design and suddenly Mammon is confused because all this time he thought she hated him (she always side eyed him in the aisle and rarely spoke to him) (she's actually the most awkward manager ever)

"That looks really pretty! You made that?"

"U-Uh, yeah! Yeah, I did! Cool, ain't it?"

-After that she makes an effort to say hi and ask what he's making (if he's making anything)

-They end up getting along and he accidentally distracts her because they talk so much, but when she starts shuffling away, he knows she's being called for something

-The other managers were wary of him too until one day they started asking about his projects too

-One time he's there to pick up some markers for Levi as a favor and MC is there

-MC spends a full 30 seconds digging in her vest pockets for her keys

-Pulls out her phone, a box cutter, her walkie, a penny, a pen, all before her keys

-She finally pulls them out and there's no clip, no nothing, just a damn keyring

-He's mortified actually because how does she live like that

-Says this out loud without realizing

-Now they're both red faced and embarrassed

"My handheld is always in my right hand, I guess? I-I don't know, it's always been like that!"

-Her right pocket only holds her handheld. Nothing else. Maybe some order slips she needs to mark as picked up. No she will not change her ways, it's too late now and she hates change

-Decides he's going to make her a charm strap

-Realizes he doesn't know her favorite color (his mind blanks on what beads she'll linger on)

-Grabs the colors Levi asked for, and tries to think of an inconspicuous way to find out her favorite color. He's snapped out of his thoughts but her voice

"There's a buy 1 get 2 free sale, y'know"

"Eh?"

"You only have 13. You could get two more for free. You need groups of three."

"Ah. Uh, I'm getting these for my damn lil bro who sent me here and these are all he wanted-" *realization* "Choose something for me, would ya?"

"...Choose for you? What if he already has them?"

"Well now he'll have extra. Just pick your favorite color or something. Don't matter."

-Mammon's plan works because she ends up picking a royal blue color immediately. She picks another shade of blue that's lighter too after a long moment because "there's no gold, unfortunately. I like shiny things."

-Mammon feels like he found his soulmate

-Notices her name tag has some star stickers on it (and Halloween one's? In July? But they're faded)

-He asks around and posts online to see if anyone local wants a commission

-Gets more requests than he bargained for but he's saving every extra penny

-Saves up enough money to buy these gold star strung beads that MC always makes a point to fiddle with (they're on the bottom rung) and he feels silly for not noticing sooner

-Buys a pack of blue seed beads (is literally in the aisle trying to color match) and some diamond spacers (they're these round disc like one's) I am literally naming beads I see at work all the time, I'm about to make this thing irl

-He surprises her one day, or tries to. Turns out she's on vacation and won't be back for ten days

-He still shops for some commissions between (notices afternoon cashiers looks kinda miserable without her and the store gets messy)

-Except the bead aisle. That stays pristine.

-He's so excited the day she comes back, and is ready to surprise her with the charm

-But then she surprises HIM with a black and yellow woven bracelet and his heart stops

"Reminded me of you. Because of that feather clip you always have on?"

"...T-Thanks! Of course I'd be on y-your mind. I'm just that memorable, ain't I?"

-MC has never gotten so red so fast (he's concerned)

-He presents the gift he made to diffuse the situation because she might actually pass out

"Here. Made this for ya. So ya won't be digging for your damn keys so long. N-Not any other reason! ... I was gonna give it to you earlier but they said you were on vacation."

-She's literally speechless and staring at him in shock so long he thinks she hates it or he made a mistake

-She manages to stutter out a thank you and clips it to her keys immediately with the softest fucking smile he's ever seen

- Oh. Oh.

-She doesn't think he sees her when she's excitedly showing it to all her coworkers. Now she just has to feel around in her pockets for the beads and pull out her keys

-On his way out, after forgetting what he meant to buy in the first place, because he can't stop thinking about her smile, he sees the table for the hiring event they're holding next week...

AHAHA SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG, BUT I NEED AN OUTLET FOR MY WORK TROUBLES

why can't I have a cool customer who snaps at karens for me 😔 also the key thing is true because I don't wanna clip them onto my pants. Everything goes in the pockets.

pt 2 is Mammon getting hired /hj (if anyone actually wants part 2 LOLOL)

Edit: PART TWO BELOW YIPPEE

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 8

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort and feels, alcoholism lol

Part 8: Long Distance

Sam stayed back at Bobby’s while Dean accompanied you back home, now that it was no longer a crime scene. When your dad finally got off of work, he greeted you in the living room with relief in his eyes and a warm hug.

That warmth diminished when he noticed Dean standing behind you.

“Dean’s a friend of Bobby’s,” you explained. Dean introduced himself and shook Jack’s hand.

“Yeah, wanted to make sure she got here okay,” Dean added.

Jack scrutinized him as they shook hands. Maybe he suspected that you and Dean weren’t telling the whole truth, but Jack seemed to accept things.

For now.

“I think we’ve got frozen pizzas for dinner if we don’t want to order out,” you said. You went over to the kitchen to check, but without you realizing, that brought you right to the spot where you were assaulted just two days ago. 

The blood had been scrubbed off the tile floor. There were still small, suspect stains in the grout, though. You looked up and saw your reflection in the microwave. It wasn’t unlike that night, when you had looked up and seen your bloody face, then looked down and seen Danny Schmitt lying dead on the floor.

You flinched when a hand came to rest on your shoulder. It was Dean, and you gave him a small grateful look. You briefly covered his hand with yours, but you took a breath and forced yourself to move past the spot, and continue toward the fridge. 

Jack watched the small moment between you and Dean. Dean knew that Jack had caught it, while you remained oblivious as you puttered around in the kitchen.

The three of you made somewhat painful small talk while waiting for the pizzas to cook. When it was done, Dean helped set the table and you cut out the slices. Jack took an opportunity to grab a beer and approach you.

“So why’s Skater Boy still in my house?” Jack asked. You could only assume he meant Dean.

“Dad, please don’t be rude,” you warned. 

“You seein’ him or something?” 

You set down the pizza cutter and gave Jack a pointed look. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Dean could hear you and Jack talking from the dining room. He took issue with your dad’s phrasing. It was a little more than “seeing,” but at least now he understood what you’d been talking about with your dad. The guy was a hard-ass. 

So Dean would go along with however you wanted to play this. It was only fair. 

The problem was, this mostly left you to keep the conversation going once the three of you sat down to eat. For forty-five minutes you did your best to fill the silences, but Jack was a man of sparing words. 

“So yeah, I should be able to finish my thesis in time. I’m looking to have a job lined up after I graduate next semester, but the only thing I’ve really been seeing is teaching positions,” you explained.

“Teaching’s acceptable,” your dad said, after finishing his second beer. “And doable, for you.”

You glanced at your dad with a telling press of your lips. 

Dean understood your annoyance. Doable for you? 

What was that supposed to mean?

“Well, I’m not sure I want to teach,” you said. “I’m thinking of applying to the natural history museum here in Sioux Falls.”

“And do what, dust off wax mannequins?” Jack remarked. 

You set down your glass of water a bit too hard. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”

Jack gave you a look of exasperation. “I’m just sayin’. You went to college without a real plan, now it’s bitin’ you in the ass. And it ain’t been cheap—”

“For you it has, because I put myself through college,” you countered. 

“What I’m saying is, now you’ve limited yourself—”

Jack actually reminded Dean of his dad in a lot of ways. But he had a feeling this man didn’t know his daughter very well. Dean wasn’t normally one to meddle in things that weren’t his business, but you were stressed out enough. He didn’t like the way your shoulders were tightening. He could feel your upset through the soul bond, and your eyes were dangerously close to frustrated tears. 

He touched your knee beneath the table and looked over at Jack.

“Look, maybe we could just take things down a couple notches here,” Dean suggested. 

Jack turned to him with an angry frown. “Now would be a very good time for you to butt out. Dean, was it? Matter of fact, why don’t you get the hell out of my house—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” you shouted. You clenched one fist on the dining table, the other on your knee beneath the table.  

Both men looked at you with mixed reactions of surprise. 

You turned to your dad. “The difference between you and me is I pursued what I was interested in. You went after what you were good at.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jack asked, after his shock wore off.

“Nothing,” you said. “But neither is what I did. I’m proud of where I am so far, what I’ve accomplished. I’m sorry if you don’t think that’s worth much, but I do. You don’t have to agree with my choices, but you can at least respect me.”

Silence fell across the table.

Secretly, Dean was proud of you, and he tapered down a smile. He knew you sensed it when you glanced at him.

“I respect you,” Jack said, pulling your attention away. “But I’m still your father.”

You shook your head. “You don’t, Dad. If you did, it wouldn’t be so hard to tell you that I’m not dating Dean. He’s my soulmate.” 

Once again, shock made the air tense. Jack’s eyes were open wide, looking from you, to Dean, and back again. His brows furrowed.

So Dean, ever the tension breaker, offered you and Jack a resigned grin. He pointed to his and Jack’s beer bottles, which were empty. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll get the whiskey.”

When your father’s shock finally wore off, he had plenty of questions for Dean. About where he lived, his job, his life in general—most of which Dean couldn’t answer honestly. Jack was a police detective by trade. As such, he was a perceptive man who knew he wasn’t getting the whole story, but eventually you cut off the inquisition.

You showed Dean up to your room, where you two were able to get some privacy. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said, once you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I could tell that, uh…that conversation with your dad was a long time coming.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t quite smile. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied. 

Tomorrow. You sighed, but you also tried not to let him sense your darkening emotions. Instead, you sat up straight and gave him a decisive look. 

“Okay, then I’m staying with you at Bobby’s tonight,” you said. One more night together.

Dean’s lips raised into a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

You spent that night mostly playing cards with Sam, Dean, and Bobby as they taught you how to hustle poker. You drank and ate and laughed, and at night, you and Dean continued to learn each other’s bodies.

In the morning, you hugged both Sam and Dean goodbye. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized again while he held you. “I’ll call you later.”

Holding back your tears, you nodded and kissed him one more time. He tucked a finger beneath your chin to keep your head up. You tried at a smile, which he appreciated. 

Then Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala. You watched them leave, and Bobby laid a supportive hand on your shoulder. 

The next year was torturous for you both. 

Dean updated you after various hunts. Not on a regular schedule, but often enough. Sam started calling now and then with historical questions—some you could answer off the top of your head, and some you actually put in some effort into researching. Dean didn’t like it at first, but soon he started calling you for information himself. 

You were smart, quick on your feet, and realistically, a convenient resource since you had access to a university library. You enjoyed it though. You were happy to be helpful to them, but you also liked the research. Often they were interesting topics in the mythologies of different cultures (if you took out the whole hashing and slashing of innocent people and monsters out of it). 

But that part too was gratifying; you felt like you were helping them save lives, in whatever small way you could offer.

You also visited Bobby more often. It was your last semester of college and he helped you with your thesis, actually giving you good notes. Dean, bless him, was encouraging, but really only helped you with the movie references. Bobby actually gave you feedback on your writing and added tidbits to the historical aspects as well.

You learned that Bobby was actually really smart. Maybe that was where you got your affinity for history and language arts.

One day though, your uncle noticed that you weren’t as into it as usual. You had a half-drunk beer in your hand while the two of you working in the living room—on the final draft of your thesis.

Bobby had asked you a question about a certain line, but you hadn’t heard him. 

“Hey, you awake over there?” he asked. Jolting in your seat, you looked over at him apologetically. 

“Sorry, what?”

Bobby smiled wryly. “Let me guess. Dean ain’t called you?”

You shook your head. “I talked to him yesterday. They’re investigating a cursed painting in New York somewhere.”

“So what’s with the face?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing.” 

After you didn’t give Bobby anything to go on, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay…”

You two spent an extended moment in relative silence, where only faint music from the radio played in the background. Plus, the occasional turning of pages from Bobby’s book.

“It’s just,” you started to say. Bobby closed his book with an expectant look on his face. 

“I’ve waited twenty-four years to find him,” you said. “Twenty-fucking-four. And now I still have to wait. How long will it be until I can start my life?”

“Well first of all, you’ve been living your life long before Dean,” Bobby pointed out. “You have your own thing going, and right now, so does Dean. When he finishes dealing with his past, he’ll be able to start thinkin’ about his future.”

That was fair, you considered. It made you feel a bit immature when he put it like that. Nor was it realistic of you to expect Dean to drop everything else in his life for you…

You and your uncle had gotten closer over the past few months. So you felt you could ask him something that had been on your mind for a long time.

“Feel free to ignore me, but, about Aunt Karen…was she your soulmate?” you asked. 

 Bobby looked over at you after sipping at a fifth of whiskey. He seemed reluctant to even say her name.

“She was,” he admitted.

You knew this would be a sensitive subject, but you took a chance. “What happened to her, Bobby?”

At first, he was quiet. You just waited to see what he would say, if he was willing to trust you. After a short while, slowly, he told you. 

She’d been possessed by a demon. 

Not one exactly like Sam and Dean were hunting, but close enough. However, Bobby didn’t know then what he knew now. 

She’d been coming at him with a knife, and before he realized what he was doing, he was defending himself with the same knife. But she just kept coming. It took your father, Jack, to pull her off of him. And Rufus, who had been tracking the thing, broke into Bobby’s house and exorcised the demon.

Then, a black spirit drained out of Karen’s body. She had enough awareness to look down at her three stab wounds before she fell to the floor. Finally, she bled out.

She was gone before either Jack or Bobby could get her to a hospital.

Jack had reluctantly helped cover up the scene by saying she’d suffered a psychotic break and attacked her husband. Bobby’s case was self-defense.

You could relate to that, at least. 

By the end of his story, you were trying in vain to stifle your tears. When you were able to speak, you asked another question.

“Then…why does Dad hate you so much if it wasn’t you fault?” 

“Because I killed her. My own wife, my…” Bobby sighed, a heavy, sharp exhale. “His baby sister. I can’t blame him.”

Because he still blamed himself. In the end, it was blood all over him and the body of his soulmate in his arms.

You didn’t know how to comfort him, but you tried. Still silently crying, you rested your hands on his arm while he couldn’t quite bring the whiskey back to his lips. 

When you graduated in May, you didn’t expect Sam and Dean to come. You’d told them about it, but when the ceremony came and you stood on that stage, you didn’t see the brothers in the crowd. You saw your dad, Bobby, some of your colleagues from the university, and a couple of your best friends from high school.

You forced your disappointment down and accepted your diploma with a smile. You were now finished with school, complete with your master’s degree in Greek and Roman Studies. And in two weeks, you had a job lined up at the local museum. You would be giving exhibit tours, and you already had a script you had to memorize by your first day. 

Maybe it was basic, but there was a path for growth there for you. In a few years you could work yourself up to museum curator! 

The point was, you felt it was a step in the right direction.

Later at home that night, your dad congratulated you while you cut up the cake he bought for you in the kitchen. He set a hand on your shoulder, subtly asking you to pause what you were doing. You turned to him with a smile.

“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he said. “You’ve got drive, and you did what you set out to do…so much of you reminds me of your mom that way.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes. Thinking about your conversation with Bobby a few weeks ago, you looked at your dad a bit differently. You had compassion for him. Like Bobby, Jack had lost his person. He was just a man who couldn’t let go.

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

But it was still a monumental fear. Every day that you didn’t hear from Dean between hunts could be nerve-wracking when you thought about what he was doing. Especially when you didn’t know how much he left out for your sake.

So when Jack nodded, you looked up and saw rare emotion in his eyes. 

“How’s Dean?” he asked. 

“He’s on a job in South Carolina,” you lied, and felt a twinge of guilt doing it. “Severe rat infestation.”

“Okay. And he couldn’t take a couple days off the rats to be here today?” 

Your lips pursed at the question—mainly because it was the same one you had. You just didn’t want your dad to know that.

“He’s working hard,” was all that you could think to reply. You knew it totally didn’t convince your dad, but you handed him a slice of cake to shut him up about it.

Later in your room, you laid out your cap and gown on your bed. You debated keeping them in your closet, or just donating them. It wasn’t like you were ever going to wear this again. 

Hey, beautiful.

You gasped when Dean’s thoughts startled you. You whipped around and there he was in your doorway, dressed in his usual jeans, shirt, and leather jacket combo. He smiled and held a bouquet of flowers for you.

“Congratulations, Professor,” he said. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you went to him. You actually almost bowled him over by jumping into his arms. 

“Whoa!” he said with a laugh. He gripped your thighs tight around his hips but lost a few steps, crashing against the wall and disturbing some of your frames. You both laughed and kissed deeply. 

After a while, you slid back down to your feet and he stroked your cheek in affection. He offered you the flowers again, and you accepted them with a pink blush. They weren’t just basic roses. Most of them you couldn’t name, but there were daisies and large orange flowers, thin springs of small white and green ones, white and red flowers that greeted you with soft blooming petals. 

“Thank you, these are beautiful,” you said. 

His smile fell. “Sorry I’m late.”

Your excitement dimmed, but you shook your head. “It’s okay.”

Dean noticed your cap and gown on the bed and gestured to them.

“Mind modeling that little number for me?” he teased.

Your mouth twitched. “What, really?”

“Yeah, why not? I wanna see the full package of the college grad.”

With another little blush, you obliged him. After setting down the flowers on your dresser, you slipped on your large, silky graduation gown first, then the cap. You adjusted the tassel so it wasn’t directly in your face. Then you grinned and struck a pose for him in the shapeless gown.

“Real sexy, huh?”

Dean smirked. “Absolutely. College girls are always sexy.”

You laughed and dropped the pose. Both of you sat down on the bed while you took off the cap. Dean fixed your frizzy hair as a result.

“Well, officially I’m not a college girl anymore,” you pointed out. “I’m starting at the museum soon, I think I told you.”

Dean nodded. “That’s okay. Hot nerds are even better.”

You giggled and took his larger hand in yours. “Where’s Sam?”

“Chillin’ at Bobby’s.”

“Ah…you saw my dad?”

“Downstairs. Wasn’t exactly happy to see me,” Dean said. “I, uh…I am sorry I couldn’t make it to the big ceremony.”

You shook your head with a smile. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Soon, you fell into the pull of him as he guided you into a kiss. You held his face in your hands, and he tugged you into his lap. 

“Up for a sleepover?” you asked between heated kisses. Though it was difficult to think at the moment, Dean hesitated. 

“What about your dad?” He groaned when your nails dragged down the back of his neck. You gave a nipping kiss between his neck and shoulder. 

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” you said against his skin. Normally you wouldn’t dream of doing this when your dad was in the house, but it had been months since you’d seen Dean. Months. 

One of your hands moved down between your bodies to palm at the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Well,” he said with a grunt, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

He left you on the bed, just long enough to get up and lock the bedroom door, before he all but tacked you back onto the bed and made you squeal. 

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jack heard your bedroom door click. He sighed, trying his damnedest not to think about what might be going on upstairs. 

He could storm up there and break down the door (like he was itching to do). You might be an adult, but this was still his house… 

But he also didn’t want to disturb the newfound peace he’d found with you today. 

Time for a drink, he decided. He grabbed his keys and headed out to the nearest bar.

Jack loved his town. He’d lived here most of his life, met his wife here, started a family and a career and all the rest here. But there was only one good bar, and that meant he was liable to run into his brother-in-law, AKA the town drunk. 

Jack spotted Bobby down at the end of the bar with a young man, dark-haired and likely in his early 20s. Jack knew that your Dean was staying at Bobby’s house. Jack also knew that your Dean had a brother, Sam. This dark-haired beanpole was most likely him.

Jack didn’t know much about Dean, or his family, but he wanted to. He wanted to know more about the man in his daughter’s life.

So instead of heeding his instinct to sit at the bar alone, he made his way all the way down and greeted Sam and Bobby civilly. 

“Your Dean’s brother?” Jack asked. Sam’s handshake was firm as he nodded. Jack detected the strength behind that loose-fitting flannel.

Hmm, not so much a beanpole, Jack thought.  

“Yes, sir. I’m Sam,” he replied.

Jack nodded at their whiskey glasses. “Let me buy another round.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Bobby said.

“It’s all right,” Jack said. “I’ve got it.”

Bobby wasn’t sure what Jack was aiming at. They hadn’t spoken directly in a few years. But he could assume it had something to do with Dean dating the man’s daughter.

Jack turned to Sam and asked mild, probing questions. He learned that Sam had gone to college: pre-law at Stanford. He had been all set to go to law school and become a successful lawyer. Sam sounded like the kind of guy Jack would’ve preferred you end up with.

“But instead, you became a traveling exterminator,” Jack said. “What happened there?”

Dean had evaded this question before, but Sam told him something different.

“Well, uh, to be honest…something happened that kind of derailed things,” Sam said. 

“Which was?” Jack asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Sam met his gaze steadily, but Jack saw something deep there, held behind polite bar conversation. 

“My girlfriend died,” he confessed. 

Jack set down his bourbon on the counter. A tendril of guilt licked down his spine for pressing. “I’m sorry.” 

Sam nodded. “After that, I spun out for a while…but Dean, he didn’t let me crash. He got me back working with him on the job. Something…constructive. It kept me going.”

Jack considered that with his glass back up to his lips. 

“After my wife died, I had my work and my daughter,” he said. “That’s it. That’s my life. It’s honest.”

Sam inclined his head. The conversation continued from there, on and off while they drank. Bobby interjected every now and then, but he kept nursing his second whiskey.

Eventually though, Sam bowed out with one last shake of Jack’s hand and a pat to Bobby’s back. It left the two older men to finish their drinks.

“They’re hunters, aren’t they? Like your friend Rufus,” Jack said. 

Bobby glanced at him. Then he sighed.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But they know what they’re doing.”

Jack shook his head. Goddamn hunters.

But the more he considered his brother-in-law, your conversation with him earlier resonated in his mind. 

“I get why you have a hard time remembering Mom,” you had said. “Now that I have Dean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

Jack looked over at Bobby. As much as he hated to admit it, they were living the same life, more or less. He’d just had you to keep him somewhat anchored. Approaching sane and respectable. Bobby had been alone.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” Jack asked. 

“What doesn’t?”

“Life,” he replied. “Without her.”

Bobby paused. Once he realized what Jack was really saying, he sighed once again.

“Nope,” he agreed. 

“I don’t know Dean Winchester,” Jack said. “You do. Should I be worried?” 

“He’s a good kid. Got some rough angles,” Bobby conceded. “But you’ll never find a more loyal man in Creation. He’d break his own neck before he’d hurt that girl.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Saves me the trouble of breakin’ it for him.”

Bobby chuckled and finished his whiskey. Jack ordered him another.

Bobby looked over at him again. “Thanks.”

Jack nodded. They drank in companionable silence until the bar closed.

The next morning, you and Dean stood outside your house on the driveway. The Impala shone next to you in the bright day’s sun. Soon, you’d have to watch the car peel away. In a way, it was harder the second time.

Dean held your cheek and kissed you nice and slow. You knew he could sense what you were feeling right now, but you tried to hold it back from your connection as much as you could.

You let your hand drift down from his shoulder to his chest, over his heart. 

I love you, you wanted to say. It was poised on your tongue, but you were afraid of being the first one to say it. Maybe it was silly, but you wondered if you had gotten attached to him more quickly than he had to you.

Meanwhile, Dean sensed your anxiety and worry, but he didn’t hear your thoughts and insecurities that you were holding back. So he just chocked it up to the fact that he was leaving. Guilt nagged at his heart.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. He always promised to call, and he always did. This time, it just didn’t make you feel that much better.

But you still faked a smile and bent to grab the bagged up containers you’d put together for Sam and Dean. It was some homemade chicken parmesan and garlic rolls, which would probably last for all of a couple of hours, knowing Dean.

“Share with your brother this time,” you reminded him. Dean smirked and took the bag from you. 

“No promises.”

The next few months were spent with you and Dean each focusing on your jobs. You talked on a frequent non-schedule basis: phone calls on your lunch break, on your commute before or after work, between Dean’s hunts, on long drives across state lines. 

When you didn’t have time to talk, you sent emails. Yours were often longer and more detailed than Dean’s, but that was just how he spoke. Direct and to the point, albeit with one or two dirty jokes thrown in. 

Sometimes all you two had time for was a brief text here and there. Dean would wish you a good morning. He’d tease you, asking what you were wearing. 

“Yoga pants and a ratty old shirt,” you’d replied once. 

He’d said: “Hmm, yoga pants.”

You laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I’m literally eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s right now.”

“Ooh, what flavor?”

You’d rolled your eyes. The only thing that distracted his dirty mind was his stomach. 

Sometimes you would send him a new song to listen to (which he would complain about, if it was anything past 1989).

But then that day came.

That dreaded day when Dean didn’t answer your call. It wasn’t just that he didn’t answer right then. You had finished your last tour of the museum for a class of second graders and were walking out to your car. It wasn’t unusual for Dean to hit you back later if he was mid-hunt. 

So you waited until the evening without a response. A warning bell trilled in your mind, but you tried not to get worried just yet. You decided to text him. 

Hey, just checking in.

You went to bed that night still waiting for his reply. 

Then the morning came, and you went a little crazy. You called him twice, then Sam. 

When Sam didn’t pick up, that little bell in your mind was a screaming fire alarm. It was a Friday though. You still had to go to work. 

So you got ready for your day as usual, though even your manager Jerry noticed that you were distracted. You had been working at the museum for around six months now, and you had proven yourself to be a dedicated worker and enthusiastic about your work. So Jerry knew when you were having an off day.

“You all right?” he asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay, well, you’ve got another tour in five minutes,” he reminded you, before he tsked and rushed over to a group of teenagers who were messing with the neanderthal exhibit. 

You sighed. The moment you thought about checking your phone again, it rang in your pocket. 

Quickly you checked who it was, your eyes widening. You answered, “Sam? Is everything okay? I’ve been calling—”

“Listen,” Sam said. “I…I need to tell you something.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you heard his tone. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“We found our dad,” he said. “And the demon.”

You gasped and moved to a corner of the museum for some privacy. “You did? That’s…that’s great! But what—”

“We got into an accident,” said Sam. “My dad and I are okay, but Dean, he’s…”

Your breath stilled in your lungs, even as your heart started to pound.

“Where are you?” You started toward the back offices to grab your purse and fished for your car keys. While Sam told you the hospital and the city, your heels clacked on the shiny tile as you booked it to your car. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Jerry asked. 

You put Sam on hold for a moment and said, without hesitation (and tears in your eyes): 

“I’m sorry, I have a family emergency. My boyfriend just got hit by a truck.”

AN: Aaand another cliffhanger. But I'm sure you know where this is going next...

2.01 "In My Time of Dying," in which the reader finally meets John Winchester, but she could end up losing Dean for good this time.

(Also, there are just a few more chapters after this. I promise I won't go through the entire show lol.)

To keep reading: PART 9

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445 @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @happygoodvibe @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1ller1 @icequeen1371 @mininjageek @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @thespnlover

[natrogersfics]

PREVIEW - Always Remember Us This Way (Romanogers AU)

Artwork by @faith2nyc Part III of the So It Goes... 'verse

“These are the occupancy numbers for the month?”

Natasha’s lips curl up into a smirk as Loki peruses the latest report on the tablet. “Try the entire Summer.”

Loki’s eyes dart to her. “You don’t say,” he says, a smile spreading across his face when she nods in confirmation. He hands the tablet back, and the pride that fills his expression is difficult to miss as he leans back against the couch cushions. “Seems our little experiment is working.”

“Maybe a little,” she says, causing them both to chuckle.

If working meant blowing projections out of the water, then that’s absolutely what their experiment – that is, throwing rolling, invitation-only events at each revamped Red Guardian property – is currently doing. Their Las Vegas property had benefited from a surge of bookings following the opening of the Red Room, and if there’s anything she’s gleaned from the sudden resurgence of their once ailing asset, it’s that there’s still cache in the hotels that her parents had built. The waning interest of their patrons in recent years had nothing to do with them tiring of their prime locations but with the predictable, cookie-cutter experiences they were offering. After all, luxury hotels on the Strip were a dime a dozen in Sin City. But crown one with an ultra-exclusive rooftop club and suddenly everyone is clamoring for an invitation.

Needless to say, they had taken that concept and ran with it, applying it next to Red Guardian’s hotel in Milan. Following the rebuild of its grand ballroom and the subsequent Masquerade Ball that Loki’s company had arranged with every celebrity and socialite in attendance, what was once considered a hemorrhaging outpost in their portfolio is now a go-to destination in the North of Italy – a fact she’ll happily highlight at her next meeting with the board.

“So, where to next?” Loki asks, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. “Tokyo? Dubai? Oh, what about Ibiza?” He sighs. “A couple of glasses of tinto de Verano under the Iberian sun sounds heavenly right about now.”

“Are we picking our next project or your next vacation?” she says with a scoff.

Loki rolls his eyes. “One day, darling, you will learn to play as hard as you work.”

“Who’s to say I don’t?”

Intrigue colors Loki’s face, but before he can ask one of the hundreds of questions she knows is already forming in his mind, a knock causes them both to look towards the doorway of her living room to see Steve standing there, a folder clutched between his fingers.

“Mr. Rogers,” Loki greets cheerfully. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Steve says, and she doesn’t miss the way his tone sounds more formal than usual. She offers him a little smile when he turns her way, but it does nothing to dislodge his humorless expression. “When you have a minute, I’d like to go over the preliminary background check for your potential client.”

“The one who requested to meet with us tomorrow?” Loki clarifies before she can respond, earning a nod from Steve. “Since when do we run background checks on clients?”

“Since it’s become clear that security’s been a little too lax as of late,” Steve says, to which Loki arches a brow at. “Safety isn’t something we’re going to trivialize.”

“We can go over that report right now,” she says before Loki can say anything more, tapping his foot with her own in an attempt to get the man to shut up. From her periphery, she catches the confused stare Loki sends her way, but she ignores it as she directs Steve’s attention back to her. “We’re just about done here anyway.”

Steve walks further into the living room at that, stopping just in front of her coffee table to hand her the folder. As she opens it up, Loki scoots closer to her, peering over her shoulder as they both study the picture clipped to the corner of the report. The woman in the image couldn’t be much older than she is, her striking features breathtaking. Everything from her flawless, porcelain skin to her gray eyes that are wide and piercing – a stark contrast to the dark curls cascading down her shoulders – made for an intriguing sight.

“Her name is Viper?” she asks as she unclips the photo to read the rest of the information on the page.

“Yes and no,” Steve says, prompting her arch a brow. “Viper is her online persona, but her real name is Ophelia Sarkissian.” He gestures towards the rest of the report. “If you turn a few pages, there are some screenshots from her social media profiles. She made a name for herself by reviewing cosmetics for the eleven million followers she has across all platforms.”

Loki lets out a low whistle. “That’s quite a following.”

“Which is why she may be looking to capitalize on it,” Steve says. “She recently filed an LLC for a company called Viper Cosmetics.”

“Finally putting her doctorate to use,” she notes, reading over Ophelia’s accomplishments that include multiple PhDs on top of being a board-certified chemist. “Filing for an LLC is literally step one in putting up a company, though. Why would she want to meet with us already?”

“Probably to secure a venue for her when she’s ready to launch,” Steve says. “Between Vegas and Milan, the uptick in your occupancy has been all over the news.”

She rolls her lips, considering the thought before looking at Loki. “She’s not our usual clientele.”

“True, but it could be a good way to get our hands into that industry,” Loki offers.

“I suppose,” she says. “What else do we know about her?”

“At the moment, not much more than what’s in that file,” Steve admits, a hint of frustration slipping into his voice. “But like I said, this is just a preliminary check. The team and I haven’t found anything online that’s raised any red flags either, so as long as the meeting is in our territory, we don’t see an issue with tomorrow’s meeting.”

“I trust you,” she says, watching the way the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly at her words.

The faintest of smiles cross his lips, and she’s glad when that softens his worry-hardened expression. “I’ve also reached out to my contact at the FBI to see if she can find anything. Just in case.”

“Well,” Loki says, “I, for one, already feel very safe.”

This time, she doesn’t even think twice about joining Steve in sending him a glare, shaking her head when Loki only whips out his phone in response, scrolling through it unbothered. She looks back at Steve. “You’ll let me know if she finds anything?”

“Of course,” he says, checking his watch. “I’m actually going to meet with her this evening. Sam’s right at the door, but I’ll be in first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, feeling a sudden wave of disappointment at the idea. Even so, she musters a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight,” he says before turning to leave.

She watches his figure retreat down the hall until it disappears from her view as he turns the corner, and it’s only when the telltale sound of the front door opening and then clicking shut fills the room that Loki turns to her. “Has he always had that stick up his ass or did he put one up there today just for me?”

She leans her head back, sighing. “He’s been this way since we got back.”

“You’ve been back for weeks,” Loki says, smirking as he adds, “I thought he’d be a giant ball of sunshine after your little side trip.” She turns to him to send a glare his way. Needing someone to confide in after the events in Vegas, she’d told him about the true nature of her relationship with Steve. And while in hindsight, she should’ve known her best friend could not help but meddle, she was still a touch surprised when he’d admitted in return that he had some hand in setting things in motion. Nevertheless, she’s glad to have someone to talk to about all of this now – even if she is, at present, regretting the decision as she catches the mischievous glint that sparkles in Loki’s eyes. “Did you two have your first little domestic up in the mountains?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Those three days…” she trails, reminiscing. “Well, they were perfect.”

She isn’t even being hyperbolic. Short as the trip they had decided to take after the event in Milan was, there really isn’t any other word to describe the days she and Steve spent alone together in her cabin in the Alps. With her phone forgotten in the deepest crevice of her luggage, it’s as though time spanned endlessly, allowing them to explore every nook and cranny of the little remote village they found themselves in. And with no one to recognize her, there hadn’t been a need for them to hide. They spent the days walking in and out of the quaint shops, sipping on mulled wine, and stealing kisses as they huddled for warmth. Then as the night rolled around, they would find themselves retiring by the fire, where they would talk and laugh and eventually find their way into each other’s arms again. Those days were nothing short of blissful, and she couldn’t think of a time where she’d felt so happy. So complete.

“What’s changed then?” Loki asks.

She sighs, recalling the exact moment in the car ride back home from the airport where she felt their euphoric little bubble burst right in the backseat of the SUV. “When we got home, his team told us that someone had sent me letters,” she says. “They were similar to the ones my stalker had sent me in the past.”

“Natasha,” Loki says, every trace of his upbeat mood gone as he sits up straighter, grabbing her hand. “Are you alright? If you’re in danger again-”

“I’m okay, Loki,” she says, finding that she truly does mean her words as she squeezes his hand back in reassurance. She’d been paralyzed with fear the first time she’d received those letters, and even more so when that maniac had found a way to corner her in the elevator bank way back when. But things are different now. She’s capable of fighting back, of protecting herself. And now she has Steve, who along with his team, she trusts whole-heartedly to never let anything like that happen to her again. “The guy’s been apprehended. Steve… well, he and his team made sure of it.”

“I’m relieved,” Loki says. “Though I suspect he isn’t.”

She shakes her head, running a hand tiredly over her face. “He’s been… distant?” she says, trying the word out for size. “He’s here, watching me and our surroundings like a hawk, but at the same time it feels like he’s a million miles away.”

“He cares about you. Deeply.”

“And I feel the same way about him,” she says, her answer coming to her almost instantly before she finds herself admitting the one thought that’s been weighing on her since the jet touched down in Teterboro last week. “I just wish we never came home.”

A beat of silence hangs over them before Loki sighs. “Natasha,” he says, “I understand why the two of you have been keeping things under the radar, but… would it really be the worst thing? The two of you out in the open?”

For a moment, she can only stare at her friend, contemplating his question. “I don’t know,” she says eventually.

Full chapter coming soon...

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic august 21 - hallway - 1124 words - office AU with intern!Regulus and juniorboss!James (nsfw! in part2)

this one’s for shan @grimjobs <3 heh

Regulus has a love-hate relationship with the supplies room. Or, more specifically, the hallway leading there.

It’s all the way at the fuck all end of the office, past the breakroom and near the lavatories. And Regulus, being the intern, gets sent there for every piss little thing a coworker might be in need of. Oh, Regulus I think I’m out of sticky notes, can you be a darling and get some from the supply room?, or, Regulus the copier is out of paper, or, Regulus is there a spare chair in the supply room? Mine’s so squeaky.

It is, also, precisely across from the Junior boss’s office, and Regulus gets incredibly flustered around James, even if the curtains are covering the huge glass panes, and so, more often than not, Regulus forgets something and has to trudge back all over again.

He knows it’s part of the job and hey, he even gets his steps in every day but what’s still entirely unfair is the way heat shoots up Regulus’ nape the second James looks up from behind his monitor and flashes him a pearly smile.

Regulus nods his head in acknowledgement, cheeks flaring and then ducks into the supply room for an array of markers, pens, blue paper for flyers, a whole fucking paper cutter machine and paper clips, but only the red ones! Sure, Bethany.

He is in the process of checking the idiotically small-printed labels for the box of yellow markers, apparently completely unaware of his surroundings, when suddenly there’s a puff of minty breath against Regulus’ cheek and a warm body skirting past his back, not quite touching but body heat radiating off him like a bloody furnace.

The Junior Boss has naturally warm hands, which Regulus is intimately familiar with since this one insisted on proving that fact when they were out with the colleagues for mulled wine last year before Christmas and Regulus had nearly frozen his fucking fingers off despite gloves. Needless to say, Regulus had gotten warm very quickly after James had stood close with his sweet smile and deep red beanie over tousled hair, cradling his hands in his palms like they were something precious.

“Sorry, love, don’t mind me,” and Regulus leaves an undignified high-pitched sound as he whirls around and comes face to face with messy raven hair and toffee brown eyes behind gold rimmed glasses. Is so hypnotized by the sight up close that his hold goes slack on the pens and paper he’s already found.

“Oh,” James says, hand shooting out to keep the rolling pens from hitting the ground. Grins while he puts one of his palms steadying under Regulus’ hand where he’s now gripping the stack of blue like a lifeline and places the pens back on top of it, “Careful there.”

Regulus’ voice is raspy when he manages a weak, “Thanks.”

James hums in understanding as he extracts himself and it’s low and deep and Regulus swears he can feel the wavelengths of it permeate through the air and penetrate all the layers of skin and muscle in his chest. Lap at the bones and wash right through between the ribs. Coil around his heart, dangerously and then devilishly slink down his spine and pool right in a pit below Regulus’ stomach that seems responsive solely to all things James related in a very biased way.

What comes next is a bit inconceivable and hazy in Regulus’ mind.

Because then James, terrifyingly, decides to step back close again and lean in.

Closer than before and Regulus is tensing, waiting for James to get the thing he’s reaching for from behind Regulus on the shelf but James doesn’t.

Doesn’t move in any regard safe for his eyelids drooping and gaze restlessly darting over Regulus face. Lick his lips and now they’re shiny and wet and Regulus has to look away. Eyes flitting back up to James like he’s being reeled in magnetically and finds their gazes locking.

And then there’s a careful touch at Regulus’ jaw and Regulus tilts his head up and into it and before the breathy noise can entirely leave his mouth James is already swallowing it up, pressing parted lips against Regulus’ with a heavy sigh.

It’s a careful press of lips and it stays like that, measured and controlled, even as James comes back in for another array of soft fluttering kisses. But it’s still wet and with the unhurried leisure their lips stick to each other, with the spit and the slow press and it’s so, so fucking far from decent and appropriate Regulus could cry.

So, really, Regulus is not to blame for the way it draws him tight, riles him up until comes the snap, and it’s in the form of a keen he didn’t even know he could make that sounds a horrifying lot like a mewl.

Which then has James promptly separating them with heavy panting, lips kiss bitten and eyes wild and Regulus would literally rather staple his eyes shut than keep looking at this without being able to do something about it.

James rightens his glasses where they’ve become askew and then his mouth tips into a happy, self-satisfied 100 watt grin, “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your desk,” taking the blue paper packet out of his hands. “Anything else you need from in here?”

And Regulus tries to remember while simultaneously suppressing the urge to throttle him and also trying to get his breathing back under control and blush to fade and hard cock to go down and why is he acting like nothing out of the ordinary just happened? Like this is your usual Monday morning occurrence and not groundbreaking and also a complete disaster waiting to happen?

Helplessly mumbles about the paper cutter machine and then James is balancing that on one defined forearm like it weighs nothing and escorting Regulus back to his desk, chattering his ear off in a chirpy tone that Regulus doesn’t register a thing off.

When James takes a pause to breathe Bethany coincidentally happens to walk past and after one look the old bat asks about her red paper clips, Regulus? which then for some reason prompts Mark to leer over the cubicle wall from across and frown at the lack of yellow marker.

Regulus barely refrains from face-palming, internally chanting and begging for the ground to open up and swallow him and then James next to him is chuckling and making a fucking cooing noise at him. He waves a dismissive hand, “Must’ve slipped your mind, huh?”

The glint in his eyes though is anything but innocent when he leans a little closer, murmuring, “Well, let’s head back and get the rest, shall we?”

———

part 2, they’re nasty fuckin there 🤭

[reve-de-sang]

for @vamptember, Sept. 13: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (posting a day early bc i'll be away)

(x) A Pygmalion AU. Vampires Armand and Magnus weigh human Lestat’s potential outside a kill room. Armand has doubts. Magnus loves chaos.

--

“You’ve found another one.”

“It’s uncanny how you always know.”

“It’s your pallor,” Armand said. “They dial it back down. Tonight you look very nearly pink-cheeked. He must be a healthy one.”

Magnus’s lips flinched with a suppressed smile. “Well. I don’t mind saying,” he rasped, rearranging himself in the leather club chair, tapping his cigar in the ashtray. “I have outdone myself this time.”

“Really.”

“Honestly I can’t imagine finding better.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“No! I’m quite serious. Every box checked of course. Fit. Blond. Blue-eyed. That sort of…regal handsomeness…”

Armand sighed meaningfully and swirled his snifter of blood, warm in the palm of his hand.

“But also a combination of beauty, fight, and health that I had given up on finding. Most of all the fight. They’ll generally do anything by day two, but I’ve had this one almost a week and he hasn’t given up.”

“Pride,” Armand sighed.

Magnus frowned. “Drive.”

“Mentally unstable.”

“Well. By now.” Magnus chuckled, and Armand joined him conspiratorially.

“No,” Magnus protested. “It’s just drive, honestly. He’s so stubborn. So angry. Not in the swoon—hard to imagine anyone fighting that in the end—but every other moment. Determined to live, or go out fighting.”

Armand hummed. “I’m almost envious. Sounds fun.”

“You know you prefer yours broken.”

“Fair.” Armand lifted the crystal decanter of blood from its sleek electric warmer. “Top you off?”

Magnus offered his snifter and Armand filled it higher with fresh blood. Magnus sipped and smiled, his narrow tongue licking at his upper lip. “I’ve noticed your particular brand of kill imbues a kind of melancholy to your libations. Would it be fair to say the despondent are your favorite flavor?”

“‘You are what you eat.’ The despair pleases me somehow. And you, always seeking out those cookie cutter men, hoping they’ll fight back. Is it the sadism of crushing these hardy specimens that attracts you to this pattern? Or some twisted hope one will succeed in the fight against you, though I can’t imagine how?”

An unsettling smile stretched across Magnus’s face, revealing his toothless gums save his two fangs. “I want a champion. And Armand? This one is easily the best, no contest. I mean to turn him.”

Armand went as still as if time has stopped. “Magnus.”

“I’ve never had a companion in all these centuries. Not even the companionship of a maker, as you know.” Armand nodded. “I’ve been looking for the perfect one, and I’ve found him.”

Armand stared at him; the long silence between them would have been preternatural to any human observer.

“Magnus,” Armand began. “…You say you have finally found one you can’t break. And this is the one you will make into a companion. Against his will. Yet what you describe sounds more like…a pet. That you must lock up when unsupervised, lest he kill you. Are you looking for him to kill you?”

Magnus’s laughter rattled in his thin chest. “Although I do love the idea of danger again after all these years, no. This is about perfection: I could not have sculpted him better myself were I an artist, and were I a god to give him life.

“And who knows what he will become? The dark gift itself may win him over. It has its own alchemy. I love a challenge, and I have nothing but time.”

“Do you? The centennial is approaching. Akasha and Enkil would expect him in attendance. Do you really think they won’t send your boytoy up like a torch within seconds of meeting him? And you with him, for the insult of his making?”

“Please. Once he’s in the blood I can bring him to heel. I will present him at court and he will be a jewel that all will envy.”

Armand drummed his nail tips against the crystal of his glass, then set it aside on the table adjacent his armrest. He leaned forward slightly. “We barely care for each other, but I have grown used to you, friend. This is your reality check: I know you have a very exacting standard, and this one in particular has,” Armand waved a hand, “qualities.”

“You have no idea.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Despite that? This is a passing fancy. Take another week, enjoy it. Then put it down and add it to your trophy pile. Otherwise after all these years you’ll be like the befuddled dog that finally caught the car; I don’t think your search is one that was meant to have an end. This will not satisfy, and you may well die for it, by his hand or the queen’s.”

Magnus set his own drink down sharply. “God but life has become boring, Armand! Do you not feel it! I think I would welcome the risk of death. To feel alive for a change.” Magnus slipped his hand into his inner coat pocket for his phone, and thumbed through his photos. “Let me show you what I mean.” An odd, soft smile bent his wizened mouth as he paused on one picture. He offered the phone to Armand. “To go out with style—that’s the dream.”

Armand slipped the phone from Magnus’s hand. Considered the photo.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Armand seemed infinitesimally pinker in the face than before, but it might have been a trick of the fire in the establishment’s hearth. Armand shrugged one shoulder slightly. “…Oh.”

“Yes, that was my feeling on the matter.” Magnus sucked on his cigar.

“May I?” Armand asked, thumb hovering over the screen to flip through Magnus’s gallery.

“Please do.”

He was silent for a moment as he browsed—there really were quite an array of photographs—swiping slowly, pausing occasionally. “…You really are quite perverse, Magnus.”

“I know.”

Armand pinched his fingers to zoom in, out. “Such a risk, banking on him coming to heel.”

“Well not entirely to heel, I hope.”

Armand ran a thumb over his lower lip, grazed one fang. He swiped leisurely through a few more pictures with his other hand. “…Would you like to bet on it? His passing at court?”

Magnus began to smile once more—the evening was possibly a record for smiles within the past century. “A wager. Life gets more exciting by the moment.”

“You have only three weeks until the centennial gathering. He has his charms, yes, but he will be completely green, will likely be an unruly child, and probably offensive and derisive about our culture. What is his provenance, by the way?”

If anything, Magnus’s smile increased. Unsettling. “Poor. Rural. Family was rich a generation ago, so they have pretensions to grandeur, but lost everything back in the crash like everyone else. So by our standards, and certainly Akasha’s: quite uncultured. He’s currently an actor.”

“Jesus, and you know how emphatically I say this, Christ.”

“Isn’t it delightful?”

Armand’s look was withering. He slid through a few more photos. “The terms of the bet will be—oh my.” Armand stilled on a picture. Casually crossed his legs.

Magnus glanced at the phone. “Oh you’ll like that series.”

Armand slanted his eyes to Magnus. “Are there videos?”

“Private folder. Possibly another time.”

“Hm.”

“Actually had to give him a transfusion after that. He cries so beautifully; I’d gotten a little excited. Took forever to hose the room down.”

“You’re so elaborate,” Armand sighed, actually raising his eyebrows at the next few pictures. “I don’t know where you find the energy.”

“Give that back,” Magnus smirked, holding out his hand for the phone, and Armand relinquished it.

“The terms of the bet,” Armand restated. “Now: obviously you are going to die on November 1, and will thereafter be unavailable to make good on the wager.” Magnus laughed. “So we’ll need to bet on something just before that. Ah.” Armand smiled. “The ball, of course. October 31. Akasha and Enkil won’t be in attendance, so you won’t die immediately, but you will still be a laughingstock.”

“And by what metric would we judge that?”

“True, you’ve never been popular,” Armand mused. Magnus was unoffended—he took pride in his black sheep status.

“So…Marius and Pandora. If they take a shine to him, you’ve won the bet,” Armand’s mouth twisted, sour.

“Oh, Armand.”

“Shut up. He is an insufferable gatekeeper when it comes to Akasha. This is perfect. We’ll leave it to Marius: if Marius chastises you—or worse—then you’ve lost. If he simply shuns you or is ambivalent, then you’ve lost. Your fledgling is to be a “jewel,” remember? To win it must be nothing less than endorsement.”

“Stakes?”

“Hmmm. If you lose, I think I’d like to spend the rest of that evening and that following day in the private company of your fledgling. He does have…qualities.”

“But it would’ve been our final hours together,” Magnus said with dry sarcasm. “How sad.”

“Better make the preceding days count.”

Magnus chuckled. “Fine.”

“And if you win?”

“Well, obviously I would live,” Magnus said. “And I would have the best companion of our kind. And the triumph of showing up all the pompous vampires who have unanimously looked down on me since my creation. Present company excepted, of course.” Armand gave a nod. “So I don’t know that I could want for anything more. Winning would simply be its own satisfaction.”

“How boring for me.”

“Perhaps I will call in a favor at some later date?”

Armand drummed his fingers on the tight leather of his club chair. “Nothing extravagant. But yes. If you win.”

—-

Just as the sun was rising, Armand received a text from Magnus; no words, only a photo. Magnus’s fledgling lay dazed on a bloodsoaked bed far more richly appointed than the white-tiled kill room featured in many of Magnus’s photos.

The pure blue of his fledgling’s eyes had iridesced in the vampiric change to take on an additional slight pale violet quality. He seemed to have been washed and groomed before his turning, though he had previously been beautiful even disheveled and abused. Armand knew better than to think Magnus had applied a filter; of course his fledgling’s complexion had now become luminous.

“Congratulations,” Armand texted, and lay down to sleep.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (37)

Part 1-Part 25 / Part 26 / Part 27 / Part 28 / Part 29 / Part 30 / Part 31 / Part 32 / Part 33 / Part 34 / Part 35 / Part 36 

Created: March 17th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

The common thread that lies between you and me-angylinni (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen has only loved one man in her life, but she's married to another. They can't stay apart and they can't be together. The Concubine-Alliswell (ao3)  Summary: "I hope to present my husband, the Duke, with a Concubine" Winter approaches, and the Duchess refuses to spend all the cold winter months in her Husband's Winter House. When the idea of bringing a Concubine to keep her husband occupied and herself free of her marital responsibilities, the fate of a Kingdom is decided. The Drifters-Diana_Flynn (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark was the cookie cutter popular boy in his small town. Smart, quarterback, and dating the most beautiful girl in school. But his life was nothing but lies that made him feel hollow inside. On one hot summer day, it took two strangers coming into town, one a grey eyed girl, to feel his heart beat again and teach him what is really valuable. The Fall Guy-atetheredmind (ao3)  Summary: We all make choices. Four years ago, Katniss and Peeta both made a choice that irrevocably changed the course of their lives. Now, Peeta’s back, and they have to face those choices, and each other. The Feint-atetheredmind (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark won his games single-handedly at the age of 15. Six years later, he must act as mentor to Katniss Everdeen in the 74th Hunger Games, where they learn there is more than one type of game at play. The Game-amelia_day (ao3)  Summary: Delly Cartwright has always loved fairy-tales, and dreams of her own happy ending. If only her and Thresh Brookes could get on the same page. Part of The Panem Nightlocks Series (The Bet) The Hustler-Diana_Flynn (ao3)  Summary: Sixteen year old Katniss Everdeen has walked the fine line between good and bad since the death of her parents. Her faith shattered, she pushes the sisters at her Catholic school at every turn, but is responsible at home to counteract her reckless Aunt Effie. It only takes one change to push Katniss over the edge. And that change is Aunt Effie's new boy toy Peeta Mellark. The Kitty Ranch-Diana_Flynn (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen is not one to look back at the choices she makes, especially if it means providing for the only person she loves - her sister Prim. This includes being a prostitute at the Kitty Ranch in Nevada. Her secret life and world are shaken when the rich media darling Peeta Mellark comes walking into her life. Modern day AU. The Other Side of the Glass-Demona424 (ao3)  Summary: Having finally ended a disastrous relationship, Katniss reunites with her friends after a long absence from their lives. They decide to take a trip to her father's cabin to catch up and things get awkward for her when the best friend she's always been in love with catches her in a compromising position. The Sun Thief-bubblegum1425 (ao3)  Summary: In the land of Panem, over a decade ago, the royal house Mellark was overthrown by the usurper Coriolanus Snow. Though the terror-filled reign of Snow and his sons has now nearly extinguished the last spark of hope in Panem's people, one boy with a bow and his Merry Band seek to restore the faith and overthrow the King. An Everlark take on Robin Hood. Fantasy AU

[piratemousey]

Gale and You

A modern Gale SFF AU

Gale/Y/N

Back From the Eternity

You rise from bed with one foot sliding into your slipper and the other lands on the flat carpet. The knocking comes again, urgent. The dark room tells you that it's the middle of the night, a crash of thunder reminds you a storm appeared suddenly off the coast and was meant to drown the small town where you live. 

You turn on the lamp by your bed, a quick glance in the mirror slanted against the wall there. Your home is the same cookie cutter home as the rest in the town of Mandrake. A home owned and furnished by Weaving Labs Incorporated, your employer. While a company town wasn't ideal, it let you do your work and it let you meet brilliant, exciting people. 

As you cross to the hall, the lightning illuminates the archway to the kitchen and the sliding doors to the small back yard. 

You hurry on your toes, concerned that there was an accident at the lab or an emergency in the neighborhood. Your pajamas are comfortable but loose, something for the cool fall evenings of northeastern Massachusetts. 

With quick fingers and a rapid heartbeat you turn on the porch light, leaning to look through the pain of glass. 

At first you can't take in the person before you. He's so changed from your last meeting. 

Gale Dekarios

Gale is braced against the doorframe, his chestnut brown hair hanging down around his face. You can see his breathing is agitated as if he'd exerted himself. When he looks at you, rain streams down his haunted face. 

The last time you saw Gale he was hovering in the open hole he'd made in the ceiling of the lab. His skin was glowing blue, his eyes a pure white light.

He'd chosen to leave, to explore the universe with his new powers. It's not like he owed you anything. It had only been some light flirting, a coffee, and a few soft kisses in the break room.

Stolen moments in the long hours of your research into the strange electromagnetic phenomenon of the town of Mandrake Falls. 

You open the door, the shock keeping you from forming words. Gale's clothes hang from him in stress. He's no longer glowing. In fact, Gale looks worn out. 

“Gale,” You finally say.

“Y/N,” Gale replies. The same honeyed voice emerges from his lips which once whispered close to your ear as his hand cupped your cheek. 

If people want to get the steamy stuff, I'll post it.

[thestraggletag]

The Caretaker, Chapter Three

AKA: A Rumbelle Sugar Daddy AU… kinda.

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Belle French had never thought helping came with strings attached, confident that in a community people naturally tended to help each other, until the day she needed help to keep the library open and no one seemed to care. No one but Mr Gold, whose penchant for dealing could always be counted on, even if the price for his generosity was known to be steep.

The sound of glass breaking woke her up from a fitful sleep in the dead of night. It was pitch black, and the wind outside made what felt like an unreasonable amount of noise in the room. Belle snuggled further into her bed, trying to go back to sleep. But soon she began to notice the temperature drop considerably as wind began to rattle inside her room, knocking a few of her trinkets and flapping books open. Reluctant to leave the dwindling warmth of her bed but worried about what was going on she wrapped herself up in a spare quilt and walked blindly around the room, blinking to try to adjust her eyes to the darkness. It was pitch-black inside the apartment, but what little light got in came from the windows, which allowed her to easily spot the broken pane in one of the small windows in the room. Her bedroom was the only part of the apartment with windows, including a balconette that was directly below the library clock, and though she usually loved that at the moment she wished she had kept all the windows boarded up like she had found them when she had first moved in.

She moved closer to try and gauge the damage, hoping it wasn’t too bad and a bit of cardboard and some tape would see her through the night when she flinched, a previously-hidden bit of glass that fell on top of her vanity scraping against her skin as she leaned against the piece of furniture, scratching her arm. She swore, blindingly searching for the light switch till she managed to find it and flip it on. By that time she could already feel wetness on her skin, and a look confirmed she had cut herself, though thankfully it looked shallow and did not hurt as bad as it looked. Clumsily, given the location of the wound, she cleaned herself up as best she could and wrapped gauze around it, trying to think about her choices.

She could not stay there. It was raining out, so she would have to patch the hole somehow no matter what, but even if she managed to do a good job of it, good enough to keep the rain out at least, it would not help the freezing cold wind from coming in, and cranking the heat up would not help much. She set out to work, finding a box cutter, some tape and the used boxes she kept from book deliveries, working methodically as she thought about what to do after.

She could call Ruby, but they had not parted on the best of terms the last time they’d seen each other and it would be awkward, if not downright unpleasant, to call her, though she had no doubt she would offer her a place to sleep. Leroy was another option, if he was not too drunk to pick up the phone, but his place was cramped and filthy, at least from what she remembered, and there was likely to be no food in the fridge and perhaps not even a sofa for the night. She was certain she would not feel comfortable there. She would not feel comfortable anywhere, really, except perhaps-

Belle knew Alexander was a bit of a night owl, or at least their conversations seemed to have indicated such. He operated on little sleep in general, and preferred a quick kip after lunch than a restful eight hours at night. He was likely awake, and she didn’t doubt he would take her in. Still, calling him felt a bit much so Belle decided to send him a message instead, so he would only see it if he was awake, with his phone nearby, and whether he wanted to answer her at all.

She didn’t expect to hear from him right away, much less to call her, but her phone rang not even a minute after sending the text.

“Belle, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

The worry in his voice somehow unlocked something in her, because she began to choke up, which was silly. She was okay, everything was okay, she was just having a rather unfortunate night and now she was worrying Alexander over nothing.

“It’s nothing, sorry I bothered you, just-”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

Before she could think better of it the entire story spilled out, from the warning Marco had given her about the windows to what she had woken up to an hour or so ago, and how freezing the apartment was. The more she talked the more she thought she had made a mountain out of a molehill and she could tough it out and try to sleep downstairs in the living room, even though she had no bedroom door and therefore no way to block the incoming cold air. 

“Could I-could I stay with you tonight? I won’t be a bother, I promise. You’ll barely notice I’m there, I have a key so you don’t have to even stay up if you were about to go to bed and-”

“Belle.” Alexander’s voice cut through her ramblings, firm but not severe. “Come over. I’ll be waiting.”

She thanked him and hurriedly put on some thick socks, her rain boots and a hideous parka that she had purchased in a thrift shop when she had moved to Maine, since her lovely Burberry coat wasn’t waterproof. When she felt ready to face the elements she packed a few things she would need into a bag and exited the library. Outside the wind was even worse than she had experienced inside her room, blowing the rain sideways so it would soak her in spite of the hood she struggled to keep over her head. Alexander’s house was, unfortunately, on the outskirts of town, near the forest, and though it was usually a lovely walk at night when it was pouring it was a different experience altogether.

When she finally arrived her fingers felt too numb to manage to even fumble in her pockets for the key. She knocked instead, a bit startled when the door opened right away and she was flooded with warmth and light. A second later a hand was pressed against her cheek, and Alexander was wincing, looking vaguely angry.

“Belle? Christ, you’re fucking freezing. Come inside.”

She mumbled something about being wet and ruining his hardwood floors, but he paid no attention to her protests, gently ushering her in and towards the kitchen so she could take off her coat and hang it up in the laundry room adjacent. 

“What’s that?”

Belle paused in the process of hanging up her coat, looking around to see what Alexander might be asking about. It took her a few seconds to realise the sleeves of her pyjama and the heavy cardigan she had thrown on top of it had rolled up, partially exposing her shoddy bandaging on her right arm.

“Oh, that’s nothing, I just cut myself with the glass.”

She tried to move the sleeves back to cover the wound but Alexander would have none of it, gently but firmly taking her arm and inspecting the bandage carefully, obviously noticing the blood was starting to stain even the top layer of gauze and that the tape was coming loose. He ghosted his fingers over the edge of the bandage, humming as he did so.

“This needs checking. I’ll go run a bath for you, your skin is like ice, and while the tub fills I’ll rebandage this for you. I’ll have something prepared for both of us for when you’re out of the bath, something warm. How does that sound?”

It sounded heavenly, even as guilt over the fuss he was making over her threatened to overwhelm her. She bit her lip as he limped upstairs to start the bath, fighting the impulse to make herself and her problems small, to shy away from the help he was offering and she desperately wanted. He came down a few minutes later with a first aid kit and proceeded to unwrap and inspect her wound.

“It doesn’t look like it’ll need stitches. I’ll have to disinfect it again, just in case, so I apologise for the discomfort.”

He made soothing noises when she squirmed at the pain of the antiseptic seeping into her fresh cut, the fingers of his left hand, that were holding her arm in place, gently massaging her skin, willing her to relax. Belle could not remember the last time someone had taken care of her in such a way, and in that moment the idea that people saw Alexander as a soulless monster was incomprehensible. Ruby often liked to say the pawnbroker did not have feelings beyond greed and malice, but to her it seemed rather the opposite: he felt deeply. She saw it in the way he was soft with her, in how carefully he bandaged the cut and applied a clear plastic film over the fresh gauze.

“That’s better. Now up and into the bath, and don’t forget to peel the protection film off once you’re dry, so it’s not uncomfortable. I left you some clothes as well, so you can change out of those wet pyjamas.”

She found the bathroom easily, even though she had not set foot in the upstairs of the house. It was a lovely, spacious room with a clawfoot tub filled to the brim with lavender-scented water. It took her no time to peel her clothes off, noticing only then how muddy the pants of her pyjama were, and soaked with rainwater. It was heavenly to get rid of everything and sink into the hot water, feeling returning to her frozen feet and hands as her clenched muscles began to relax, the anxiety of the past hour seeping out of her and melting into the water. She hummed, trying to remember the last time she had had a bath, a proper one with bubble bath and bath oils, but could not remember. She either hadn’t had the time in a while or the energy for anything more than a perfunctory shower, plus a proper bath required at least some investment and she still had trouble getting used to spending money like she wasn’t on survival mode anymore.

It was only when the water started to turn lukewarm that Belle took stock of the other products in the room, noticing some lovely-smelling shampoo from a brand that she had always wanted to try. It smelt citrusy, not like the sandalwood she associated with Alexander, and looked unused, almost as if it had been waiting for her. Feeling daring she decided her hair could use a wash, lathering her scalp as the bathtub drained and rinsing with fresh water from the faucet. 

Afterwards she wrapped herself in the biggest towel she had ever seen, fluffy and warm and began to look around for the clothing Alexander had promised her, glad she had thought to grab some clean underwear along with her toothbrush and other necessities on the way there. She found some pyjamas neatly folded near the towel rack, and when she unfolded them she knew at once they weren’t Alexander’s. They were new, for one, a bit small for him and not his style at all. They were silk, like the set he was wearing beneath the robe he had on, but a turquoise instead of a navy blue and they had exquisitely-drawn crocodiles in shades of green, pale pink and baby blue. She snorted, seeing Alexander’s brand of humour all over the purchase. She glanced at the tag- Olivia Von Halle, no way those pyjamas were less than five hundred dollars- and noticed it was her exact size. He had bought them for her, for some reason. And though she thought she should feel wary of it or even creeped out she didn’t. She felt… something else. Effervescent almost.

She got dressed quickly, deciding she had taken too long in the bath already, and came downstairs with a comb in her hand, trying to look like she was not regretting not having hunted around for some conditioner to untangle her hair, which was abundant but also impossible to tame. She hadn’t cut it in a while, only trimmed it herself from time to time, and it was showing.

“I should cut it all off, get rid of the bother.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Alexander came out of the kitchen with a mug of something that did not look like tea, ushering her into the living room so they could sit on the sofa. Another cup of the mystery liquid was already on top of a coaster on the coffee table, along with a plate of the shortbread cookies she loved.

“I’m never going to untangle it.”

“Not with that attitude. Sit down, I made you a hot toddy to warm you up. I’ll strong-arm your hair into submission while you drink. Want to make sure you don’t catch anything from the cold, your skin was like ice when you got here.”

She accepted the drink gratefully, blowing into the hot liquid to give herself something to do while she felt Alexander settle behind her, gently taking in a lock of her hair and patiently combing it, moving from the ends upwards so as to not drag the knots. It felt shockingly intimate, for some reason, even though he was only touching her hair. He was so careful with it, though, as if it was spun gold, and she could feel the full weight of his focus on her, a heavy but not unwelcome feeling. She sipped her drink, idly realising the alcohol wasn’t hitting her quite as hard as Alexander’s gentle touches.

“It’d be a shame to cut hair like yours.”

His voice was a low, throaty purr, his accent thickening as she had always imagined it did when he was tired. At some point he finished detangling her hair, switching from combing it to brushing it, making sure to keep it away from her back as it dried. Belle finished her drink, feeling at once drowsy from the warmth of the house and the alcohol and electrified by Alexander’s gentle touch.

“Tell me what happened tonight.”

She told him all of it, including Marco’s previous warning regarding the windows. She had hoped to have more saved up to replace them all at once but clearly that would not do. She could go bit by bit, perhaps, if Marco was amenable. A window at a time, beginning with the broken one.

“I’ll call Marco in the morning and deal with it myself. All glass needs to be replaced as soon as possible. I will not have you wake up to a broken pane again.”

She made a move to turn, but he tutted and softly tugged on her hair to instruct her to remain as she was.

“I can’t possibly ask you to do that. This is my problem, I’ll deal with it. I have a plan.”

“Nonsense. I was supposed to bring the library up to code, make sure that it was left in working order.”

“And you did. This isn’t part of the deal, you don’t have to-”

She felt one of his hands fist on the fabric of her pyjamas by her hip, his forehead pressing slightly between her shoulder blades as he leant forward.

“Please, let me do this.” His voice was rough and low and Belle had to take a deep breath to try and centre herself. “Let me take care of you.”

He said it as if he was desperate to help her, as if she would hurt him by rejecting his offer. Tentatively she took the hand that was holding onto the side of her pyjama top and stroked her thumb across his knuckles, willing him to loosen his grip.

“Alright. You can call Marco.”

She felt him relax against her, his forehead pressing more against her back as he practically slumped forward, holding himself back at the last second.

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

Something about how he said it, the genuine gratitude mingled with something she could not quite name, something intense and dark and deep, stuck to the back of Belle’s mind, bothering her, but the rest of her could only concentrate on Alexander’s presence behind her, all power and energy barely contained, like a tiger ready to spring. And yet she did not feel afraid, but excited. The air between them felt charged as he continued to brush her hair, eventually discarding the brush to run his fingers down her mostly-dried curls.

“Let’s get you to bed. You’ve had quite a night.”

She let him lead her upstairs, marvelling at his strength as he carried her almost limply to the bedroom he had prepared for her, one hand on his cane and the other around her waist. Once there he tucked her in, bending down and, after a small flicker of hesitation, pressing his lips against her forehead.

“Thank you for taking me in.”

He was almost out the door before the words slipped past her lips, almost slurred as she fought with her fatigue.

“Thank you for calling me.”

The events of that night replayed themselves over and over again the following days, occupying her thoughts entirely. Marco showed up promptly the day after, in the afternoon, ready to replace the broken window that day and work out with her the best time to replace the others. But after he left there was nothing to keep her from obsessing over what Alexander had told her, the way in which he had desperately pleaded with her to let him help. It meant something, something profound, something she had gotten glimpses of before but never like that, never so raw and exposed.

She was thinking about it while shelving books one slow afternoon when she was startled by a tap on her shoulder. She jumped, the heavy encyclopaedia tome she was about to shelf with its sisters falling to the ground with a loud thud.

“Jesus, Belle, it’s me!”

Ruby backed away from her slightly, holding her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of innocence. She was dressed in her waitress uniform, a long red puffer coat and woollen hat thrown over to keep her warm. She looked sheepish and sort of downcast, clearly not there to pick a fight. Belle was glad of it.

“Can we talk? Are you free? I got us some chocolate and cookies to sweeten the deal.”

She took out a small thermos and a paper bag from inside her jacket, holding them out like offerings to an angry god. Belle sighed, trying to put on a reassuring smile.

“No eating or drinking in the library. Let’s go to my office, I have some mugs there and a plate for the cookies.”

It was incredibly awkward at first, both women stuck inside the small room, sipping chocolate and looking at each other, expecting the other to speak first. After a while, though, Ruby took a deep breath and set her cup of hot chocolate down.

“I’m sorry, Belle. About everything, including how long it took me to get here to apologise.”

Belle blinked, surprised. She knew that Ruby showing up with food was meant to soften things between them, a sign that her friend wanted a reconciliation, but she had not thought it would include a direct apology. Perhaps a “I hate it when we fight, let’s forget about it, okay?” or a half-hearted, indirect admission of partial guilt. Nothing more. 

“You were right, about everything. I thought you weren’t at first and I was so angry but I talked about it with Granny and I was surprised that she did not feel the same as I did. I mean, not about Gold, I didn’t tell her about that part, but the rest. Looking back I see you were not okay, not for a long time, but I didn’t wanna see it. I just thought… You’re so independent. You could handle anything. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I was just unwilling to get out of my comfort zone and see that maybe our relationship had always been one-sided.”

Belle bit back the natural instinct to contradict her friend, to tell her that their relationship hadn’t always been unbalanced, but she held herself back. It wouldn’t do to lie and minimise the hurt after all that struggle to express it in the first place. And clearly it had taken a lot for her friend to come to the library as well, she should hear her out completely and honestly.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see you struggle. That I didn’t see you suffer. That I minimised your worries. I thought about what it would’ve meant for the library to close and all I could think about was how much I’d miss you.”

Ruby burst into tears then, leaning over to give her a hug. The strength of it spoke of her genuine contrition, making Belle start crying herself. As much as it had felt good to give the waitress a piece of her mind it felt even better to be acknowledged and validated, and she was relieved that her friend had chosen to apologise instead of doubling down. Ruby was a genuinely good person, and she had been her rock during that first year at Storybrooke, before things had gotten uneven between them. And Belle had to acknowledge she herself had somehow encouraged that by giving without taking, falling into familiar relationship patterns that replicated those she had learned as a child, especially after her mother’s death. It didn’t absolve the waitress from her guilt but it did let Belle know what she needed to look out for going forward.

“I’m glad you kept fighting for this town even when everyone in it turned their backs on you.”

“Not everyone.”

The librarian very much wished she could control the blush she felt creeping across her face, wondering if she could pass it off as the result of the steam from the hot chocolate hitting her face. The waitress arched an eyebrow, smiling tentatively, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“Am I now allowed to ask after Mr Gold now? I promise to keep an open mind. I’m sorry about what I implied before, but something is going on and I want to know, if you want to tell me.”

Belle hesitated, desperately needing to talk with someone about whatever was going on between her and Alexander but at the same time refusing to do so before she understood it herself.

“I want to, but I’m not ready yet. Later.” She looked up to notice Ruby frowning and rushed to reassure her. “I’m just not ready to talk about it but I will. I promise. Thank you for the offer Ruby. And the apology.”

“So… are we back to being friends? Because I’ve been miserable these past few weeks and Granny is about to kick me out over my moping.”

“She would never. But yes, we’re friends again. Better friends than before, I hope.”

Ruby gave her a characteristic wolfish smile before leaning close for another fierce hug.

“You bet.”

“Did Marco finish replacing the windows in your flat?”

Belle looked up from the chessboard, studying Alexander as he fiddled with the white queen she had taken off the board a couple of moves earlier with her remaining knight.

“Yes. He’s confident the windows can withstand a hurricane at this point and it does feel like the apartment is more insulated, warmer. Thank you again for that, by the way.”

“My pleasure.”

He smiled, still refusing to meet her gaze, and moved a bishop across the board to threaten one of her rooks. A bold move, but she had expected it. He was a rather aggressive chess player, which made him deadly in the short term but beatable if she managed to sidestep his brutal attacks.

“About that, I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

She moved her pawn, watching as he swept his bishop to take her rook. If she could manage to keep him distracted it would only take a couple more moves for her to get her queen back, and then the last piece would be in position for a checkmate.

“Why you made that deal with me. A deal for my time. A deal that hasn’t seemed to benefit you at all.”

Her words finally managed to make him lift his eyes off the board and settle on her. He looked composed at first glance, but Belle had had months to learn how to read him and she could easily spy the flicker of nervousness in the corner of his eyes, the tense setting of his jaw.

“Whatever do you mean?”

She moved her pawn again, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I thought it was a power move at first, but that didn’t last long. You never flexed your deal to others or treated me with anything but respect and courtesy, not to mention that I got to know you and realised that just wasn’t something you seemed to want.”

She gestured towards the board and watched him as he moved a knight to a rather random position. She doubted that it was a calculated move.

“Then I thought you were lonely. And I was right about that, so I was convinced for the longest time I had figured it out. You just wanted a companion. But that wasn’t true either.”

She moved her pawn again, reaching the end of his side of the board and reclaiming her queen from his rather lax grip.

“This deal- it wasn’t about power, or about loneliness. I think-I think it’s about you taking care of me.”

“What a ridiculous notion.”

Belle moved her queen to threaten both his wandering bishop and the pawn keeping her rook from checking his king.

Everything you’ve done has been to take care of me. The food, the clothes, the free time. You’ve tricked me into comfort, somehow. And I could not see it, not until you made it obvious. Till the other night.”

He moved his pawn forward, sacrificing his bishop to her queen. She took it quickly, her mind already mapping out the final moves, making sure he had no wiggle room left. He was slippery and violent when cornered, after all.

“And so what if I did? You’re a proud woman, Belle, and so terribly unused to unburdening yourself to others or accepting help. You were literally starving yourself trying to do things alone, thinking no one noticed. But I noticed. Every fucking day. So when the opportunity presented itself to help you I took it. I’m not apologising for that. I only wish you would’ve asked sooner.”

He snarled the last part, though Belle sensed none of his animosity was directed at her, not really. She knew there was a violent side to Alexander, that wasn’t just town gossip gone wild. But she knew, instinctually, that he would never hurt her. The most she had to fear was him being violent in her name, for her sake.

“Is this some- some pity thing?” This was her greatest fear, and now that she had voiced it she wished she could take it all back. She didn’t want to know. As long as he didn’t tell her outright that he felt sorry for her she could pretend he didn’t and nothing would change in their relationship. His pity would devastate her.

“It’s not fucking pity. No one who’s ever known you could pity you.”

“Then what is it? Is it kindness? You were just being kind?”

“Could we please drop it?”

His words were a nervous whine, with an edge of a warning at the end. Usually that level of distress would be enough to make her stop but Belle was determined to get an answer. If he felt sorry for her she would rather know then and there and deal with that before it was too late.

“Just tell me what this is. I deserve to know.”

“It’s just-” Abruptly he got up, knocking a few pieces off the chessboard in the process. It was just as well, they both knew she had won the game already. Just as they both knew that she would win whatever power struggle was happening between them now.

“Just what?”

“Can’t we speak about something else?”

“Just what, Alexander?”

“I love it. Taking care of you. Watching the tiredness and anxiety seep out of you. Watching you regain colour and vitality. Laugh more, indulge more. Love taking you to new places and giving you beautiful clothes, things that you deserve. It’s a power that I marvel at.”

He was pacing back and forth, like a caged panther, and though Belle felt her heart speed up she knew it wasn’t from apprehension. It was something else, something she could almost taste, like a storm brewing between them. Looking more frenzied the more he thought he sat down again, his hand grabbing the wrist of her outstretched hand, which was fiddling with his black king. His grip was frantic, as if he was afraid she would bolt unless he held onto her.

“It’s not me being kind, it’s more than that. I don’t just want to help you. I want to spoil you. I want to give you everything you deserve, not just what you need. I want to wrap you in expensive silk and satin, fill your arms with bracelets and your neck with chains. I want to see the way diamonds and pearls look against your skin, whether gold or platinum compliments you more. The idea of being able to do it sets my blood on fire. You have no idea about the depths of this depravity of mine, how I’ve had to curtail my baser instincts, my more urgent impulses. I’ve been tame till now, living off of the clothing I was allowed to buy you, and the food I was allowed to feed you.”

Alexander’s hold on her wrist tightened to the point that it was painful, but Belle barely noticed. Her attention was riveted on the pawnbroker’s face as a glint of desperation shone in his eyes. Alexander Gold was nothing if not composed, a man used to always being in control, no matter the time or the circumstance. And yet he was unhinged then, as if something inside him had finally snapped, something that had been quietly building for a while. Something she had managed to catch a glimpse of the night he took her in.

“If you could- if you would ever consider, just consider, letting me- I mean, if you could ever consider indulging me I would drench you in jewellery, surround you in books, lay you in Savoir sheets and drape you in the softest Sarrieri chemises.” He spoke in hushed tones, feverish and almost unintelligible given how his accent had thickened, and yet Belle was focused on his words, his tone, the feel of his fingers as they began to caress her wrist above her thundering heartbeat.

“Nothing would please me more, bring me more joy, than to cook decadent meals for you. Pamper you with whatever you wanted, at whatever time of the day you’d allow it. Buy you expensive shoes, take you out to experience new things, new sights.”

“You would-” Belle paused, trying to wrap her mind around what she was hearing, her efforts hampered by the distraction of his fingers ghosting over the skin of her arm, idly going higher with every pass. “You would give me anything I wanted?”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

She felt an initial rush of power at the offer. Alexander Gold bowed to no one and yet here he was, putting himself in her hands, willing to do whatever she asked him. And he was powerful, his offer was real: if he offered anything it was because he could get anything. After that came and went she began to process what was going on in front of her, what Alexander was trying to say.

“This is- this is a sex thing?”

She winced, wishing that she had found a way to phrase it that didn’t make her sound like some naive, inexperienced idiot. Not that she did have a lot of experience, but she was well-read on the topic. Extremely well-read, some might say.

“It’s not- not that, but it’s beyond that. It’s always been the way I express affection. It hasn’t happened often in my life, and after the disaster that was my last attempt at a romantic relationship in which I took care of my significant other I shut that part of myself away. An annoying quirk I decided I would do better without. Until I met you.”

The way he looked at her, the adoration in his eyes, how had Belle missed it all that time? It wasn’t new, he wasn’t staring at her in some special novel way, it was just that now she understood. Like she had suddenly developed an ability she hadn’t had before. He clung to her still, both hands holding onto her arm, his fingers tracing patterns against the sensitive skin of her inner arm, and the feeling of it grounded her somehow, made it all feel real.

“You’re kind, and brave, and funny, and I could not help myself. I tried. I told myself I would be unwelcome. That you were just being polite when you talked to me, or friendly, the way you would be to anyone else. And that you didn’t need me poking around, giving myself the right to barge in where I was not invited. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to take care of you.”

Belle could not remember the last time someone had so fiercely felt the need to look after her, not with the single-minded passion she could see in Alexander’s face. It was heady, which was unexpected. She had always prided herself on her independence, and would’ve thought it difficult to even contemplate giving up, even if just a little. And yet-

“So- so it isn’t a sex-”

“Oh, no, it very much is. I haven’t- allowed myself to feed those fantasies, but they’re there, clawing at the last remnants of my self-restraint. It’s- it’s a natural extension, I suppose, wanting to give you pleasure in whatever way it’s possible. Wanting to- to- I can’t quite put it into words. Too-” he paused, as if trying to come up with the right word. “Too intense.”

Belle knew, without a sliver of doubt, that if she simply changed the topic he would drop it. Or that if she made it clear she wanted to hear none of it, he would shut up and never bring it up again.

“Show me, then.”

The words barely made it out of her lips, breathy and thin, but they resonated across the room, as if she had shouted them. Alexander leaned back against his chair, as if to put as much distance between themselves as possible, one of his hands fumbling for his cane, as if even sitting down he felt out of balance.

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t quite put into words what you wanted to do to me. So… show me.”

Belle took a deep breath, trying to look calm. She kept replaying her manta over and over inside her head: ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’

“You cannot possibly want me to-”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. Unless you don’t want to, after all.”

She didn’t know what led her to question his commitment, given how passionately he had spoken about what he wished to do to her, how he wished to bring her pleasure, but it somehow seemed to do the trick, the disbelief leeching off his face to be replaced with single-minded determination. He looked around, seeming to be considering something, shaking his head before standing up and taking her hand.

“Not here. You deserve a bed, at the very least.”

He led her up the stairs, and though she had already been there before it all felt new and exciting to Belle, different from the other night, when she had not had the understanding of Alexander she did then. They bypassed the room she had slept in the other night and went into the next room, which she now realised was his room. It was the way she had imagined his bedroom to be like, the walls a dark burgundy and the room almost entirely dominated by a four-poster bed, with an exquisitely-carved headboard.

“I wanted to bring you here, the other day. Had to talk myself out of it a hundred times. I was afraid of making you uncomfortable, but the thought of you in my bed was almost enough to override my common sense.”

It was wild to Belle how earnest and passionate he sounded, given how well he had hid that part of himself for months. And yet, it was not completely foreign to her, this side of him: Alexander was naturally intense about the things that fascinated him, from antiques to books. She just had never expected to find herself added to the list.

“It’s a lovely room.”

Lovely and warm, which made her feel more than a bit overdressed. She pulled her cardigan off, both in fear of breaking into a rather unsexy sweat, and to perhaps signal her willingness for things to progress further, pleased to have worn one of her nicer shirts- a cream Valentino blouse with a ruffled collar and cap sleeves. She watched his eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze lingering on the still-healing cut on her arm. Like he had predicted it hadn’t needed stitches, though it was still in the process of closing.

“Does it still hurt?”

Daringly, she extended her arm towards him, letting him ghost a finger over the line.

“Not at all. It’s mostly a bother, but it’s healing fast.” She paused, breath hitching as he leaned down and, gathering her forearm gently between his hands, kissed the tip of the cut. “You took good care of me that night.”

The words made him shudder, and the grip on her arm tightened slightly. His lips trailed across the thin red line, mapping it carefully. It felt very intimate and Belle could hardly believe she was getting turned on from just having her arm kissed. Eventually he moved up again, kissing the crook of her arm, nosing her shoulder and, finally, mouthing the exposed skin of her neck. She could feel his sudden spike of annoyance at how the high neckline of the blouse limited his exploration so she reached behind, undoing the top button on the back of the shirt and guiding the dainty little zipper bellow it down as far as it could go, so that the shirt would gape open at the neck. He rewarded her by clutching her close, no longer keeping some distance between them as he seemed adamant about doing before, his lips firmer as they explored her neck and her now-exposed shoulder, one of his hands, the one not around her waist, untucking her blouse from her pleated rose skirt to slide up her naked back, the contact electric. She gasped, arching against him as she bit back a needy little moan.

“Sweet girl…”

His voice was soft, cajoling, even as his touch became more insistent, more desperate. He explored her clavicle- a zone that before Belle would not have found to be erogenous at all for her- and other shoulder thoroughly before he grew displeased again, the hand on her back grabbing the hem of her and tugging upwards, his intent clear. She tutted in mock reprimand at his rough handling of the garment, dutifully raising her arms so he could slip it off her.

“Careful, I like this shirt!”

“I’ll buy you twenty like it.”

It wasn’t the promise of him lavishing her with designer clothing that had her heart speeding up but rather the desperation in his voice, as if he would die if he was denied more access to her skin. His mouth became frenzied as it seemed to try and map out her entire torso, his teeth nipping at the white bow of her bra, tucked neatly between her breasts.

“If I ruin this lovely bit of lace, would you let me buy you a replacement? I’ve seen some lovely sets at La Perla and Simone Pérèle.”

Belle sunk her hands into his hair, unable to voice her ascent or denial. She was too lost in the feel of his touch and the notion that he had browsed lingerie for her, thinking what would look good on her, what he would want to see her in. 

“Talk to me, sweet girl.” Alexander knelt down, his hands around her waist, his tongue teasing her bellybutton.

“A-about what?”

She could hardly think of anything. She doubted she would be able to tell him her name if he asked.

“Am I pleasing you?”

In almost any different context Belle would have thought such a question during sex to be boastful. But there was genuine curiosity in his tone, mixed with the slightest hint of anxiety she wished to completely vanish.

“Yes.” At first that one word is all she could articulate, especially as she felt his fingers working on the hook and zipper of her skirt. She was glad that she had worn thigh-high stockings instead of tights in spite of the cold. She held onto his hair as he gently tugged her now loose skirt down, careful to help her step out of it before he tossed it aside. 

“I need more from you, darling. Tell me what you want. Tell me what to do to make you feel good.”

The way he slurred out the word ‘good’, as if he was drunk on her, her body and the experience of being able to touch her and kiss her, was overwhelming. He was kneeling in front of her, looking up at her with both tender admiration and passionate need and the sight was enough to conquer her remaining embarrassment and loosen her tongue and propel her into action. With shaky but determined hands she reached behind, deftly undoing the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the ground without hesitation. She didn’t want him to think she had any doubts about what they were already doing and about to do. She took one of his hands, the right one with the moonstone ring she had often admired, and pressed it over her left breast.

“I want you to touch me here.” He curled his fingers around her flesh reverently, his thumb gently tracing the red, angry patch of skin right beneath her breast where the underwire of her bra had dug in. As he did this she took his other hand and, after only the briefest hesitation, pressed it against her lace-covered cunt. “And here.”

The sound he made in response to her little bit of daring was inhuman, a growl that she shouldn’t have found as arousing as she did. Now that he had permission he didn’t hesitate, the fingers of his right hand eagerly exploring the soft flesh of her breast while his right hand traced the lace of her panties, playing briefly with the scalloped seams before moving the fabric aside so that flesh could meet flesh. She was wet already, she knew, but it felt even more as Alexander’s fingers glided over her bare cunt. She had grown up next to the beach and had gotten used to waxing, leaving only a strip of hair, what the Americans called a “French bikini”. She had kept the practice out of habit and comfort, though it had been ages since she had last gone to the beach in a bikini, given that she lived in Maine.

“You’re so soft, everywhere.” His voice was rough like gravel, and the way he pressed his face against her bare stomach made it so that she could feel it more than hear it. “Just like I always imagined.”

She wanted to reward his words with some of her own but the stimulation was getting to be too much and all she could concentrate on was on holding onto him to avoid toppling over. Eventually, likely noticing the way her legs shook with increasing violence the more he explored her, he manoeuvred them so a simple, gentle shove landed her on the bed, with Alexander quickly following after. 

It was then that it occurred to Belle that though he had had his fingers inside her, or close enough, they had yet to properly kiss and it was a travesty. Taking advantage of the fact that she now could move more freely she tugged him upwards, swallowing his grunt of protest as she pressed her lips against his. It wasn’t soft as tentative as she had first imagined it would be, nor slow and deep as she had later fantasised. It was violent and hurried, some unknown urgency pushing them both into trying to consume each other. Belle returned one of her hands to his hair, obsessed with the silky feel of it and the way he responded to having it tugged, how in control it made her feel to be able to render him senseless with such a simple gesture.

Though the kiss was frenzied and desperate neither was in a hurry to move on to other things, content to let out months of pent-up frustration with what amounted to heavy-petting. Belle managed to make him lose the jacket and the tie, with his shoes coming off right before his hands busied themselves sliding her stocking down her legs one at a time, his fingers curling around her thighs as he did so. He was still too overdressed while she was clad only in a pair of increasingly-uncomfortable panties, so she eventually, with a low whine at the unfairness of it all, let go of his mouth, shoving him backwards and stopping his determined efforts to resume kissing every inch of her body.

“Clothes. Off. Now. Or I’m putting mine on and walking out.”

It was the emptiest threat Belle had ever issued and yet, given the ruthless efficiency with which Alexander took off his shirt, undershirt and trousers, it was clearly effective. He paused slightly only when it came to removing his socks, which puzzled Belle till she caught a glimpse of the mass of discoloured scar tissue that was his right ankle. Till then she had all but forgotten Alexander’s limp, had not factored it at all in what they were doing, but the reminder gave her pause. She chewed her lower lip, wondering whether to say anything and risk offence or say nothing and potentially have him overdo himself while refusing to tell her. Finally, when he reached out to kiss her again she took hold of his face so that she could look him in the eye.

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable or in pain let me know, please.” He could see the annoyance and shame flit through his eyes so she reached up to brush her nose against his. “Tell me and I promise to do the same.”

It was a rather disarming argument, something he could not object to and proof that there was no shame in showing vulnerability between them. He nuzzled her back, his lips quirking into an almost unwilling half-smile.

“Deal.”

He slanted his mouth against her as if to seal the promise, and the rushed, desperate feeling from later slowly returned, pecks and caresses turning quicker, harder, bolder. Belle felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of Alexander’s naked skin nor readily available to her touch and wasted no time mapping his chest, with the sparse and greying chest hairs and the occasional faded scar, which she had to keep herself from asking about. He also had a tattoo on his forearm, a lizard of some sort, which she lovingly mapped as a way to try and distract herself from how good his thigh felt as it pressed against her cunt. 

She wanted to offer him pleasure but he seemed determined to drown her in her own, nipping at the skin just below her breasts as his hands quickly disposed of her now sodden underwear to then delve into her. She was more than ready, drenched in a way that would have made her feel embarrassed if her body wasn’t on fire and her mind completely unable to form coherent thought beyond the need for more, and there, and now. In the end it did not take more than a few minutes with two of his fingers deep inside her and his thumb stroking her slippery clit for her to break apart, the experience far more intense than the mellow orgasms she was used to giving herself. She tried to clamp a hand over her mouth, embarrassed for the sounds coming out of her, but he tore it away almost viciously, looking down at her with such an intense look in his eyes he almost seemed angry, if not for the faint uptilt of his lips.

“I’ve earned those sounds, sweet girl. Don’t deny me them.”

It was hard to let go of the last bit of self-consciousness she had, but it was also exhilarating, and the last remnants of pleasure burning through her bloodstream seemed amplified every time she cried out. He was caring in the aftermath, blanketing her with his body and trading soft, languid kisses while she came down from her high. It was as if the earlier urgency had passed and they could take their time, could explore and gauge each other’s reactions to whatever new they tried. And yet there was a remaining frisson of tension in Belle every time Alexander’s hard cock brushed against her, still hidden behind the Scotsman’s silk boxers. It reminded her that he was still aching, even though he had made her come. Resolute, she tried flipping them over, determined to let him rest his ankle and let her ride him instead, but he shied away, his mouth going lower and lower, living a damp trail in its wake.

“Alex, what- Oh.”

Belle had had someone go down on her before. It wasn’t an entirely new experience by any means, but it was perhaps the aspect of sex she was less familiar with. Most men she had been with seemed to find it undesirable at best and a turn-off at worst, and Belle had never insisted because she had never much seen the appeal of it. In books it always seemed sexy but in real life it was rather underwhelming, and sometimes even uncomfortable. 

But the moment Alexander pressed his mouth against her sex she knew that it would be different. Perhaps because her feelings towards him were so strong, or because he was so good at it, or because he seemed so completely determined to read her every whimper and twitch of her legs to figure out what she liked and how she liked it. It was as if whatever she had experienced before was muted and sloppy, uncoordinated, whereas Alexander was a man on a mission, single-minded in his pursuit of her pleasure. And, she thought giddily, she had always known he had a silver tongue.

“Oh, yes, there, please.”

She didn’t mind whining anymore, or thrashing, liking the way he held her down, anchored her to the bed, one hand between her breasts and the other holding onto one of her legs. Though she thought it would take her time to come again her orgasm built up out of nowhere, taking her completely by surprise. She arched her back, grateful for Alexander’s firm hold on her body keeping her from potentially falling off the bed. He petted her as if to calm her down while his tongue kept constant, almost painful stimulation over her clit, never quite enough to be too much, to be overwhelming, but feeling as if it was always skirting that edge. The orgasm was more drawn-out than the one before, lingering as a pulsating feeling between her legs longs after Alexander was done lapping at her cunt.

“You were so good. So good for me, sweet girl.”

He kept praising her, his hands stroking her legs, her stomach, her arms, whatever they could reach, trying to soothe her. He told her how much he had enjoyed it, how she was a dream come true, how this had been better than the fantasies he had built in his head were nothing compared to the reality of her, her smell, her taste. It would have made her blush, if her body had the energy for it. This is what he had meant by wanting to take care of her, and he had been genuine when he had told her that he would like nothing more. She could tell there was no expectation of more from him, he wasn’t simply scoring points so that she would later go down on him or let him do something that otherwise she wouldn’t have. He was not keeping score at all, or hoping for anything other than what they had done. She was sure that if she told him she was done he would not object, would not act as if she owed him anything.

That just made Belle more determined to take matters into her own hands and so when she felt a bit more in control of herself she rose up, deftly planting both knees on the mattress on either side of Alexander’s narrow hips. She laughed at his startled look, leaning down to give him a reassuring kiss while her hands tugged insistently on his underwear, the intent clear. It took some wiggling and huffing, less graceful than she would have liked but with the aftershocks of two orgasms still in her system Belle found herself unable to care. Finally he was as naked beneath her as she was above him, and though she would have liked time to explore that, to trace the veins of his cock and explore just what part of it was more sensitive to her touch, she knew that Alexander would not stand much more teasing and she would rather he come in her. The way he whined and thrashed when she ghosted the tips of her fingers over the underside of his member told her it was all the foreplay he could possibly stand.

“You ready, darling?”

“Been ready for hours. Days. Weeks.” Alexander took a deep breath when she got a firm hold of his cock, likely trying to keep himself in check. “I’ve been ready since the day I met you.”

“Aren’t you sweet.”

She sunk into him without further ado, loving the way he dug his fingernails into the sides of her waist, his whole body tensing beneath her. He was thick and perhaps if she hadn’t been so thoroughly wet and slick the sudden intrusion of him into her cunt would’ve been uncomfortable, but all she could feel was how perfectly he filled her up, how he stretched her in just the right way. Alexander, meanwhile, did not seem to be enjoying their union as much, thrashing beneath her, clearly eager to move but fiercely determined not to do so without her permission. She leaned down, taking a hold of a lock of his hair and tugging, forcing him to tilt his head back and calm down. Once he stopped moving altogether she pecked him on the lips as a reward.

“Good boy.”

She began to rock then, slow and steady at first, trying to figure out if any sort of movement on her part could potentially jolt his ankle, increasing the pace when she saw no hint of paint bleed into his features. She was surprised to feel the slow burn of arousal build inside her as well, having thought that after two orgasms her body would be too spent and overly-stimulated to allow her to come another time. 

“Harder, Belle, please. Faster.”

Alexander’s hips rose to meet her thrusts, as much as he possibly could while keeping his right leg mostly immobile, and though it was rocky at first they soon found a rhythm, a back and forth that had her gasping, struggling to concentrate on her partner’s pleasure even as her own began to build up. Finally, when the pawnbroker’s slippery fingers began to rub her clit, providing that bit of extra friction she needed, she broke, tipping over the edge just as she could feel him do the same, delighted by the filthy profanity in heavily-accented English that accompanied the Scotsman’s orgasm. She focused on keeping her thrusts, making sure to milk every little bit of pleasure out of him. After they were both spent she fell against him, his hands coming around to cocoon her in warmth.

“Well, that was-”

She struggled for breath, feeling as if she had just ran a marathon. She was certain she would be sore in the morning, but could not find it in herself to mind. Instead she relaxed, complaining a little bit when Alexander nudged her to move so they could both slip under the covers, with her curling against him the moment they were both tucked into bed.

“Perfect.”

The way he said it, a mixture of awed and satisfied, his accent wrapping around the word, made her toes curl. She turned to her side to face him, idly combing his hair into a semblance of order, loving the way he leaned into her touch, like a cat.

“Anything else I can do for you? After a short rest, I beg you.”

“Yes, actually.” She paused, the pawnbroker turning to face her, expectant. “I want to go out. On a date. In public. Here. I-I don’t want to hide this, hide us. Would that- would that be okay?”

The smile that spread across his face was soft and beautiful, and there was surprise there too.

“It would be more than okay.”

They decided that their first public date should be at Granny’s. It was, after all, the point of origin and dissemination of most gossip in town, barring Mrs Nolan’s classroom. Belle had prepared herself for being gaped at and talked about. It wouldn’t bother her, and whoever had a problem with it either was not worth the trouble. Ruby would understand, and Granny. Leroy wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t give her a hard time about it, and as someone who both knew what it was to have a controversial love and what it was to be fodder for town gossip. He would probably get into a fight or two if he caught people talking badly about Belle and her new relationship, even if he privately gave her grief for it.

She dressed carefully, not too flirty but at the same time trying to be clear that she was on a date. She had carefully selected a Miu Miu dress she had bought and paid for herself, a respectable crepe-de-chine mini dress that with her height lost a lot of the scandalous appeal of the hemline and with her modest breast lost also a lot of the impact of its statement v-neckline, paired with a cream, oversized cashmere cardigan that was meant to soften the look and was also something she had gotten from Alexander. She knew now that he enjoyed seeing her in things he purchased for her and she figured him being in a good mood would go a long way in making the evening a success. 

They met just outside the library after closing time, Alexander waiting patiently as she locked the building before offering his arm to escort her to the dinner. They had gotten used to walking that way, with her pressed up against him, but never while in town, and they attracted a fair bit of attention in their short walk. Belle almost burst out laughing when Mother Superior passed by and stared, a shocked look in her face.

“The way she’s gawking you’d think we were doing more than walking arm in arm.”

“Given Mother Superior’s experience this is probably what she considers second base.”

Their laughter garnered them even more attention, especially Alexander’s booming bark, which the people of Storybrooke had perhaps never heard before. Soon enough they were in front of Granny’s and Belle was surprised to see it was packed. Ruby, at her request, had reserved her a small corner booth like she had asked her, but there were no other tables available and most of the bar spots were taken too. She paused, bracing herself when she caught Ruby’s stare, seeing the calculating look in her friend’s eyes and the way she seemed to focus on her close proximity to the pawnbroker.

“You sure you want to do this today, Belle?” Alexander must have interpreted her pause wrong, because he looked at her with gentle understanding. “We can do it another day, when there aren’t as many people around.”

“You would rather wait?”

“I would rather you not be uncomfortable.”

Belle relaxed, understanding. Alexander wasn’t getting cold feet, he was, as always, concerned for her. How she had managed to miss how much he cared for her for months she would never know, not when it was so clear to her now. Emboldened by his little, unconscious show of affection she rose on her tiptoes, hands resting on Alexander’s shoulders to steady herself as she captured his lips with her own. She meant it to be a soft, affectionate peck, a message rather than a spectacle, but she did not count on the way Alexander would always respond to her, how he would turn a goodbye kiss into a ten-minute tug-of-war where Belle struggled to keep her clothes on because she was going to be late and she took her librarian duties very seriously, thank you very much. Like in those occasions when she pulled back he chased her mouth with his, his left hand going around her waist to press her firmly against him, leaving her no choice really but to wrap her arms more firmly around him, fingers tugging on his hair in silent reprimand, which she knew was counterproductive. But it wasn’t her fault that he was such a good kisser, or that his barely-restrained passion made her forget herself and where she was-

A car horn sounded in the distance, bringing her back to reality. Reluctantly but firmly she pushed Alexander away, patting his hair into some semblance of order once she saw how she had mused it. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ruby’s flabbergasted expression, but noticed she seemed excited rather than outraged. She pointedly did not look at anyone else, deciding that they didn’t matter.

“Shall we go in? I’m dying for one of Granny’s burgers.”

Alexander nodded, looking vaguely dazed and, dared she say it, rather pleased.

“After you, my dear.”

[weepingmilkshakedreamer]

AS1 dial0gue but it'z my au [Act 1 aka the part 1 0f thiz thing. l0l]

i've been thinking ab0ut making z0mething like thiz z0 uhh yeah here ya g0. l0l

Bleed: Oh sweet mother of God! I've killed a dead hobo!

Alan: I'm not dead you asshole! Argh... Quickly - you have to cut me open!

Bleed: Uh... I've got a pizza cutter!

After surgery

Bleed: So uhhh who are you sir?

Alan: My name is Alan probe.

Bleed: Can you teach me that- how to do surgery?

Alan: Teach surgery? I... I couldn't. Not again...

Bleed: Why not? I've got a bunch more tools in the van. And if that pool table over there doesn't scream operation, Then I don't know what does!

Alan: And who the fuck would want to be operated on by some washed-up old tramp and a god damn pizza boy?

*CRASH!!*

--------------------------------------------------------------

Tammy: Urrrr...

Bleed: Hello miss burglar! Fall through the window trying to rob our clinic i see?

Tammy: C... clinic?

Bleed: Yep! You're in luck- today's special is glass extraction!

After surgery

Tammy: Urgh... wow. Hey- do i recognize you?

Alan: Me?! Oh no no... I'm sure you couldn't!

Tammy: There was a doctor got himself into a heap of trouble a few years back... lotsa unexplained deaths.

Tammy: Then he just disappeared...

Alan: Ok that's enough of you now! Do come again.

*Alan pushez Tammy out of the Warehouse*

Bleed: Hmm. So uhh, was it true what she said? You're a doctor?

Alan: No! I mean, I used to...

Bleed: Can you teach me how to cut- I mean, help people?

Alan: Alright, Bleed. But we may have to improvise with the tools a little since the current layout we have is shit...

--------------------------------------------------------------

Claude: Hey i heard you boys were surgeons, can you guys help out here?

Bleed: Whoa! That porcupine has a hillbilly stuck on its ass!

Claude: I went to, uh, pick-up this here prickle-pig, but i done fell on it instead.

After surgery

Claude: That was pretty alright! I'm sure you can take my gratitude as a thank you!

*Claude leaves the Warehouse*

Bleed: So are you really the renegade doctor that burglar was talking about before?

Alan: Bleed, you have some real talent. I will continue to train you if it's what you really want...

Bleed: It's what I've ALWAYS wanted!

Alan: But I will only do so on the condition that we do not talk about my fucking past! It is uneventful and uninteresting, I assure you dumbass!

Bleed: Uhh... OK! You're the boss... uh- doc!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Cletus: I heard yew guys were surgeons of a kind, care to help out a friend... *Glug-glug-glug*

Bleed: Hello... Uhm are you drinking PAINT?!

Cletus: Doesn't say I shouldn't on the can! And that means a big fat payout from the paint company! Same goes for the nailgun maker who didn't mention I shouldn't shoot myself in the chest!

Bleed: One de-nailing coming right up sir!

After surgery

Cletus: yew guys are pretty good. Here - take my Buzzsaw as a kind thanks! I'm sure a pair of makeshift surgeons such as yewrselfves could use it!

Bleed: Aw hell yeah! Hey doc, you have anything you need amputating? cause I'll gladly remove it for you! Rrrm-rrrm!

Alan: (Sigh...)

--------------------------------------------------------------

Guts: I'm gus but fols call me "Guts". I was down at the bank, robbing... Uh, I mean, making a deposit And I slipped and fell on some bullets!

Bleed: Uhh... Ok? -

Guts: And what makes it worse is that I can't eats no more! Glaaaaargh!

Bleed: OH SWEET MOTHER OF-

Alan: WHAT THE FU-

Guts: See what I means? Can you guys take a look-see?

Bleed: (shudders and almost throws up) Ok let's see what's up...

After surgery

Guts: Ahhh... Dat's better! And there's nuttin' like a good clear-out to work up an appetite! The only hospital round here closed down a few years ago. Some nasty stuff went down there...

Alan: (shudder) Well, don't let us keep you!

Bleed: yeah that was honestly disgusting!

Guts: Right! T'anks again, fellas! I'll spread the word about you guys!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Trent: Hey your the Doctors my husband was talking about! you gotta help! You see i run the junkyard downtown - body disposals and whatnot...

Bleed: Car bodies? Or...

Bleed: Never mind!

Trent: I was down at the junkyard, Dealing with some scrap metal until I slipped and fell on it instead!

Bleed: We'll see what we can do.

After surgery

Trent: You guys are great! Thanks again!

Bleed: Well that was something! Goodbye now, Trent!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jack: My nickname's "Lumbar" Jack. Partly becuase of my profession, but mainly because of my back, eh? It pains me something fearsome!

Bleed: Nurse! Anesthetic please!

Alan: Bleed I swear to god if you call me your nurse again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass you will have no idea!

Bleed: ...

Alan: ...

Bleed: Uhh... Can you at least get the Anesthetic?

Alan: (Groan...) Fine! Whatever!

After Surgery

Jack: That feels...

Jack: *CRACK!*

Jack: Oh yes! Ooh, I'll be back to wrestlin' bears and violating forests in no time!

Bleed: Right... well! Don't get the two confused! Have fun now!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jimmy: Ta daaaa! Look in your pocket! Your watch is now gone! I stole it!

Alan: Wait WHAT?! YOU MOTHER- Wait. What the hell are you supposed to be!

Jimmy: JIMMY THE SPIDER! Cat-burglar extraordinaire!

Jimmy: I must have burgled, oh, five cats so far! Ha ha ha!

Alan: ....that's just down right awful

Jimmy: No, I'm just kidding. But I am totally SPIDER-LIKE!

Alan: Uh huh sure you are... Well bleeds running late so what do you want em to do when he gets here? Remove a part of your god damn brain to cure you of this weird god forsaken behavior?

Jimmy: No way! It's just that recently, some of my SPIDER MEALS have been... repeating on me.

Alan: gross... well say "Ah"!-

Bleed: Hey Alan! Sorry I'm late I've been... AH! SPIDER!

After surgery

Jimmy: Ah - that's much better!

Bleed: (shudder) Next time, why not try eating a spider to catch the flies?

Bleed: Or would that be like i don't know... cannibalism?

Jimmy: Ha! Yeah! Sure - eat a spider! Can you imagine someone coming in with a whole bunch of spiders running around inside them?

Bleed: OK YOU CAN LEAVE NOW! BEFORE YOU MAKE ME THROW UP FROM A IMAGE I DIDNT WANNA SEE!

Jimmy: Alright but before i go, have you guys ever considered going upscale? Maybe moving to the city?

Alan: Oh hell no! I much prefer the quiet life!

Bleed: But doc! think what we could do! There'd be loads more interesting stuff in the city!

Alan: I said no, Bleed!

*Jimmy leaves the Warehouse*

Bleed: But I still need more practice! Wouldn't moving to the city-

Alan: Bleed - you are a very talented young- or more middle aged man. In fact, you remind me of someone i used to work with...

Bleed: Really? You mentioned you worked with someone before! What happened to her?

Bleed: ...or was it a HIM?!

Alan: Never mind! Listen to me Bleed - you said you wanted my help. Fine, I will help you.

Alan: But all I want is a more quiet life! Out of the way! Is that clear?

Bleed: Yes.

Alan: Ok.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Pete: Ah hello guys! I've come into some right nice organs recently.

Pete: Seeing as my own organs are failing a bit, I was hoping you could swap my old organs with a new ones, like?

Pete: In return, I'll see you get all the juicy organs a young middle-aged surgeon could need!

Pete: Look at the tubes on that! glistening, they are!

Bleed: Let's do this!

After surgery

Pete: Amazing job you two! Tell me though, a place like this hardly fitting for people like you? isn't it?

Pete: There's plenty of work in the city! haven't you heard?

Pete: Some nutjob has started running around maiming people! terrible, it is!

Bleed: Doc, did you hear what that guy said? The city needs us!

Bleed: Please doc, I don't wanna be a pizza boy forever!

Bleed: And one day I wanna have my own surgery! for real! Please...

Bleed: And what about you!? Surely you must want something better for yourself!

Alan: I... I need to think. I'm going for a walk.

Bleed: Hey! Wait... doc...

--------------------------------------------------------------

Bleed: Man, I can't believe the doc left me on my own. What if some utter headcase comes in? I-

Penny: Bonsoir. I am Penny.

Penny: You are the pizza boy who operates with a spoon?

Bleed: Uh it's a Pizza cutter, actually.

Penny: Take up your spoon, my good man! I will be most interested to see what you find within me!

After surgery

Bleed: You were full of weird bugs but I killed them all.

Penny: Did you know the brighter and more beautiful the creature, the more extravagant and excruciating its poison?

Bleed: OK! Well that's great! Off you go now!

Bleed: ...

Guy: Hey you! Yeah you! I'm looking for someone!

Bleed: (Oh... he's hot!)

Bleed: Listen, whoever it is you're looking for, I think it may be me!

Guy: Euch! I wanted the surgeon! Goodbye!

Bleed: Hey wait! Wait come back!

Bleed: Argh! Dammit! This stupid uniform! How can anyone recognize me as a master surgeon when I'm wearing this thing?

Bleed: Man, where's the doc gotten to? I hope he's not gone off on another cough syrup bender and walked out in front of a car... again...

Alan: Bleed, I've been thinking... We should go to the city.

Bleed: Ha! Great! You know, this is just my day for good news! There was a really handsome guy here just now. He was looking for "the surgeon", Ha!

Bleed: Guess he didn't realize he'd found em! Woo!

Alan: A guy? My god... No, it couldn't be...

Bleed: Never mind that now! Let's get this show on the road!

[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: It always ends the same

Pairing: Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi

Tags: Modern!AU, Angst, Incest, Secret Relationship, Cheating, background Gong Shangjue x Shangguan Qian

--

He can't remember the face of the man he kissed in the club, but he does remember how it felt to be pressed up against the wall and held like he meant something. Yuanzhi thinks the man might have left a hickey. That would be inconvenient.

The happy high that had carried him through the better part of the night has long since simmered down to a dull buzz in the back of his head. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he blows out a lungful of air as he keys in the passcode to the front door of his flat.

Yuanzhi's going to forego a shower and head straight to bed. Maybe get a glass of water and some painkillers for the hangover in the morning. It's a sound plan and one that has worked before and would have worked now if it weren't for the single table lamp in his living room illuminating the figure sitting on his sofa.

Yuanzhi jolts a little at the sight of his big brother. Affecting a calm he does not feel, he locks the door behind him. Carefully setting his shoes next to his gege's.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, shuffling to the kitchen for his glass of water. Really, he's too tired for this. Shangjue gege isn't supposed to even visit for another week and if he is remembering the dates right, he's supposed to be in Tokyo.

"Where were you?"

Annoyance prickles in his throat. Seriously, where does he get the balls to ask him these questions? Yuanzhi is not in the mood tonight. He downs a glass of water before mustering enough nonchalance to say, "Why do you even care?"

Shangjue gege doesn't reply and Yuanzhi doesn't give a damn enough to wait around for one.

Filling his glass back up, he makes for his bedroom. He makes it halfway there before he finds himself grabbed and pinned up against the dining table with his glass shattering on the floor where it falls.

"What--"

"Who did this to you?" Shangjue gege seethes, hand on the base of his throat holding him in place. Yuanzhi panics a little because he knows that's where the man from the club has kissed a mark on his skin. He tries to break away, and push back, but it's quickly quelled by Shangjue pressing down hard enough so that he's pinned.

Like one of those butterflies pinned to a silken display case that they used to marvel over in the family home.

"Why?"

Yuanzhi pushes again and Shangjue lets go, stepping back far enough for Yuanzhi to right himself. Just when he thinks he can shake him off, Shangjue grips him hard by the hip.

"Why?" He growls out.

Properly ticked off at this point, Yuanzhi roars back, "Why not!"

This startles Shangjue enough to let him go. Punching him on the shoulder, Yuanzhi shoulders past him.

"Look around you, Ge! Look at where we are! This is your house, your clothes! I go to a school of your choosing and I study what you tell me to. I'm in a fucking dollhouse and I'm your fucking sex doll. You pick me up when you need a willing hole to fuck so that you don't break your pretty wife and you leave me here like an unwanted puppy when you don't need me."

"I can't have any friends because how do I even begin to tell them how fucked up my life is. I can't get close to anyone because I'll be risking you and your perfect cookie-cutter life." Yuanzhi furiously wipes at the tears that bleed down his face. Shaking his head, he gulps wetly. "My whole life, ever since we were kids, has been shaped by you. Why not? You have the audacity to ask me that?"

There's barely a trace of an emotion on Shangjue's face. When he reaches out to touch Yuanzhi, he slaps his hand away, but this doesn't deter him. He takes hold of his sweater sleeve, tugging once, twice, before Yuanzhi relents and falls into his arms with a sob.

Careful caresses card through the hair at the base of his skull and the warmth of his gege's hug feels a lot like how he would be comforted after a skinned knee, but the gentle kiss to the corner of his eyes is anything but innocent, childhood comfort.

The slow tilt of his face and the slide of gege's mouth against his is the furthest thing from familial.

"It wasn't supposed to get this far," Shangjue whispers. "I wasn't supposed to let it get this far."

Yuanzhi swallows down the rest of the bile that threatens to escape from the tip of his tongue. He's tired. He is drained and there's nothing left in him tonight for sharp edges and hurt. Yuanzhi just doesn't want to think anymore.

With a soft push against his gege's chest, he sniffles, pulling away.

Without a word, he walks to his bedroom door, opening it and stepping through. He leaves it open behind him, stripping out of his clothes until he's down to his underwear.

He hears the shuffling of socked feet on the floor. Then the snick of the door closing.

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Kinktober 2024 - Day 8 - Softober 2

I did another of the Softober prompts: A werewolf ate my pizza. Characters: Terzo (Missionary Man AU) & Vinnie (OC) CW - mention of "special brownies"

AO3 Link

Read below!

        The oversized shirt was comfy, and Vinnie relished the ability to relax after the Ministry party they’d attended. “It wasn’t even a formal party,” Terzo teased her. “No, but I didn’t want to wear pants today.” She shrugged. “I do enjoy it when you don’t wear pants,” he mused, relaxing on the couch. Vinnie gave him a look, thinking he was too relaxed. “A cosa serve quello sguardo?” He murmured. “What?” she laughed. “You know my Italian isn’t that good yet.” “No, it’s atrocious. I asked what that look was for.” “You just seem… Off.” Vinnie cupped his face, tilting it up. She smirked suddenly. “Terzo, amore… Did you have any of the brownies with the green icing?” “Sì, a few.” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, and she patted his cheek gently. “Okay.” “Did you have any?” “One, yeah.” “Did you not like them?” “I didn’t want to be high. Well, no higher than one would get me.”

        Terzo’s face became a little confused as he looked at her. “Oh… Oh. Those were special brownies.” He nodded sagely. “How did you not taste it?” she giggled. “I smoked part of Secondo’s cigar – that fucks anyone’s taste buds.” “No wonder you smell. You should change.” “You just want me naked,” he smirked lazily at her. Vinnie shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Can you make a snack, amore?” he asked, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Are you just getting naked now?” “Sì.” Shaking her head again, she headed to the kitchen. She felt a little relaxed herself, but knew the brownies weren’t that strong. She turned on the oven and retrieved a frozen pizza from the freezer. When the preheat setting beeped, she slid the pizza onto the rack. “It’ll be about twelve minutes,” she called.

        Vinnie was not expecting to see a fully nude Terzo leaning in the doorway when she turned. “I know what we can do in those twelve minutes,” he said slyly. “Oh yeah? Because, uhh…” She gestured at his still-flaccid cock. “I don’t think you’re ready to go.” Terzo snorted. “I can be ready in a moment’s notice.” “Uhhuh, if you say so. Go pick something to watch on TV.” “We won’t need TV,” he promised lustily, causing Vinnie to shake her head in amusement. “Go.” She tried to hold back a laugh. Terzo gave Vinnie an appreciative, but lazy look and turned and walked away. “Hate to see him leave, love to watch him go,” she uttered to herself under her breath as she watched his ass retreat to the living room. Busying herself getting out plates, a cutting board, and the pizza cutter, she passed the time until the pizza was done.

        Terzo was lounging on the couch, staring at the TV but not really seeming to see it. “Oh you’re high as fuck,” she muttered as she carried his plate in. “Here’s your snack.” “Grazie.” He sat up immediately and took a bit of the pizza, then set it back on the plate and leaned back onto the couch. The minutes passed, Vinnie finished her slice while Terzo’s remained untouched. Shrugging to herself, she let Terzo cuddle into her, his hand idly stroking her leg as he stared at the show he’d put on. Vinnie played a game on her phone after texting Omega to find out if he knew the last time Terzo had been stoned. “I need a drink, do you want anything?” she asked, trying to disentangle herself from him. “No, no. But you go ahead.” Padding into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of juice. Terzo’s shout of fear caused her to nearly drop the glass, and she coughed as she choked a little. “What is it?!” she called, moving towards the door, trying to clear her throat. “A werewolf stole my pizza!” he yelled.

        Vinnie stopped in her tracks. “A… werewolf?” Her head tilted to one side. “Are those… Are those even real? I mean, I know a lot of things are, given that I’m a shapeshifter and ghouls and demons are real. How would it get into the apartment?” “Vinnie! A werewolf stole my pizza!” He stared at her over the back of the couch, one hand gesturing to his now empty plate. A crunching noise caught her attention from the corner, and she spotted Chuck enjoying the last bit of pizza crust in his bed. “Are you sure it was a werewolf, Terzo?” “Yes! It was all… bald but hairy. Scary, crooked teeth. It’s tongue just lolling out. I think it was rabid!” She could feel the giggle building in her chest and shook her head. “You’re absolutely sure it was a werewolf?” “Why don’t you believe me?! I’m a Satanic Pope!” “You’re also stoned as fuck… Are you sure it wasn’t just, oh, I dunno, Chuck?” “Chuck isn’t big enough to be mistaken for a werewolf, Vincencia!” “Uhhuh. Do you want more pizza? There’s still some in the kitchen.” “No, because the werewolf is just going to take it again!” he screeched. The laughter broke free of her control and Vinnie hugged herself. “I think you’re safe, Terzo. There’s no werewolves in the apartment.” “Amore, you’re cruel to laugh at me and not believe me!” “Why don’t we go upstairs to bed then? No werewolves up there. Not allowed.” Terzo glared suspiciously at her. “None?” “Not a single one. Very firm rules in place. They wouldn’t dare cross the blanket boundary of safety.” She bit her lip to quell the laughing. Chuck knew if Terzo was in the apartment he needed to stay in his bed in the living room – not that he was a werewolf, just a pizza thief. “Fine. Let’s go upstairs.”

        He stood, heading to the stairs, and Vinnie quickly turned off the TV and lights before following him. She got him settled into the bed, and cuddled beside him. “I can’t believe a werewolf stole my pizza!” he muttered into her neck. “I know you’re high as balls right now, but it was just Chuck,” she tried to reassure him. Her effort was wasted though, because Terzo had already passed out and was starting to snore. From the bedside table her phone vibrated and she reached for it, seeing Omega’s name on the screen. Opening the message she read: It’s been a while, he might be a lightweight. Oh, he ate those green brownies, didn’t he? Fuck. Better you than me. With a stupid grin on her face, she quickly texted back: A werewolf ate his pizza. Shaking her head in amusement, she snuggled back down into the bedding and her snoring partner, figuring she’d better get some sleep.